Check one: stress calls for therapy, or ice cream, or a stiff drink.

One son was having a screaming meltdown and throwing just-folded laundry on the kitchen floor, the other child, a 7 month old crawler, was eyeing the eletrical outlets with determined zeal.  These things occured simultaneously, roughly ten hours after a day filled with multiple other just as entertaining stress-making moments.  It’s times like tonight that I wonder, oughtn’t I be in therapy?  Or should I mix up a stiff one?  I’ll reach for the chocolate caramel brownie ice cream now, and hope it soothes the frayed edges.  But sheesh, it’s been one of those days.