I should have sensed the impending storm. Today started off rather jolly. I slept in a bit later than normal and both natives joined me for snuggles and reading time in bed. In retrospect, I should have never gotten out of my bed.
The natives joined me in a noble quest to ascertain what makes ice melt the quickest. Elaborate charts and sets were created. Patience was taught. In my hubris, I believed the natives were better for having me in their lives.
The day began to unravel. Tasks, whether they be athletics, math, reading, art, or eating, only took 10 minutes apiece, leaving much more time for the natives to lodge complaints or duel with one another.
Schedules conflicted for Capt A and Capt C; at times, both captains were engaged in critical missions that distracted from the reality that the natives now had full control of the ship.
'Twas not all horrid, though. Commander Mo Willems masterfully distracted the natives for 30 minutes. Capt A, out of sheer determination, prepared a delicious feast. Gambling soothed the natives. And sighting familiar faces via technology restored faith and goodwill.
As the end of the day grew near, though, the ice melted. One native admitted to a theft, earlier in the day, of frozen sugar water sticks. Both natives had stored the frozen sticks in the hull, and, in a fantastic twist of logic, refused to account for melting. (Yes, even though our quest earlier in the day had focused on what maketh ice melt quickest!) Capt C, stymied by the natives’ audacity, scrubbed the hull as an exercise in anger management; the slightly calmer Capt A corralled the natives into their sleeping quarters.
All rations that have the slightest amount of sugarcane in them shall be hidden, forevermore, from the natives. Your captains are feasting on treats from the land of Samoa and PBPatty (formerly the Republic of TagALong).
My final thought: The days stretch on to infinity, and I fear the natives are only gaining strength.
#parentinginthetimeofcoronavirus
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