On our way home from all the exciting Mother’s Day activities (Lake George in Hobart & then Dari Dip in Portage) we noticed Noah had a bit of the sads. When we asked him about it he got full on weepy. I whispered to Jeff, it might be the Sunday Night Blues. You know?
That child is so much like me at ten years old. I remember that feeling in the pit of my stomach when Sunday night would roll around. For me it usually meant I had to stop reading the book I’d been devouring all weekend, or get back into the routine of life vs. my preferred pretend-world.
I tried to get his mind off of it when he confirmed between sniffles that he just didn’t want to go to school tomorrow. We were stopped by a train, so we guessed what time the last train car would pass in front of us. We both guessed 8:45 and seriously as soon as the clock turned 8:45 the last train car passed. That cheered him up for a minute. Then we were home and it was time to get ready for bed. Just another reminder.
I remember so well. And I don’t remember what made me feel better about it other than just facing the next day and working it out.
How do you fight the Sunday Night Blues?