When my children were younger, I almost couldn't wait for them to grow up. I wouldn't have to take them to the bathroom anymore (Yippee, for not having to wipe other peoples bums). They could dress and feed themselves. And they could arrange their own play dates.
I imagined all this free time in which I could write. I would write a million books a year! Yes, a million!!
How dumb and foolish I was. So dumb.