It's been one of those weeks. A school holiday, sick whiny-complaining-moping-sleeping-at-home-in-violation-of-our-marriage-contract-which-clearly-stipulates-that-we-do-not-have-lunch-together-on-weekdays husband, teeth flying out of the heads of kids and going missing, tooth fairies coming, a son who is emotionally fragile but pretty like a fairy, a toddler who thinks that shrieking and stomping are acceptable alternatives to "please" and "may I" and my general state of malaise, all balanced on top of a giant heap of laundry - it's X-treme Circus To The MAX, baby.

Woo! Glamorous! And SEXY!

Anyway, when I picked my tooth-shedding wonder up from school on Tuesday, she charged out of the classroom with a tote bag containing her class mascot - a stuffed toy leopard named Larry, a book about big cats for beginning readers and Larry's travel journal.

My daughter's 'special' week was upon us, and I was woefully unenthusiastic. Whee. We get to write down what Larry has done with our family each day, and oh! she gets to bring special show and tell every day. Fan-freaking-tastic.

I know, I'm a grump. She immediately started taunting her siblings with "I'm not going to let you play with Larry." Back at home, a tug of war broke out with Larry being drawn and quartered. I rescued his fuzzy butt before he lost a limb, but it was looking ugly there for a minute. After a talking to about being gentle and sharing, I marched back to my dinner preparations and Larry engaged in a spirited game of hide and seek.

We all know how hide and seek goes in my family.

"Mom! Where is Larry?"

*plugging ears and chanting lallerlallerlallerlallerlaller*

Larry finally turned up, but no one would own up to where they had put him. But WHATEVER. Larry was back in the bag for the night.

The next morning, Larry was supposed to visit my son's preschool class so we would have something exotic to write in the journal, but tantrums ensued and Larry returned to visit the kindergarten instead. After school, Larry was left behind when we visited Grandma's house - another journaling opportunity wasted. What kind of mother am I?

Last night was the final night with the fuzzy fellow. We took him grocery shopping, and then sat down and created a rich fantasy life for Larry - oh, he had a wonderful, if completely fictional, visit with our family.

The show and tell bidness was another trip. Apparently, most of the kids made collages of baby photos, brought favorite toys, that kind of thing. My girl spent an hour making shredded paper flowers that she informed me were "ART, geez" and then she wrote non-funny jokes on the back - "What kind of flowers stink? Yellow." which she assured me would crack her entire class up.

She may be many things in life, but a jokesmith? No.

I sent her to school today with the book "Walter The Farting Dog" to share. Yes, yes. I'm going to rush out to buy a bigger mailbox so that all the good parenting awards that are going to be heading this way will fit.