The eight year old had a meltdown due to the fact her teacher sent homework via email, and her father could access said email and understand Google Classroom.
The eight year old had a friend over, inspite of the social pressure to not have friends over, because the friend’s mother is out vanquishing zombies. And she needed childcare.
I spent the morning cleaning the bunker. Every clean spot I considered a victory.
We took a brief respite outside, as it unwise to let the canine relieve herself inside the bunker. We saw two other children who quickly scurried behind a tree. Several vultures flew over head. But they avoided us–today.
Back inside the eight year and friend have not yet caused chaos. But it is early.
The pop tarts rations are supposed to arrive tomorrow. This keeps me going.