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Stories from a life in progress.

How do you answer that?

The week continues to be busy, learning things left and right.  Quoting a book off my shelves, it's all been a bit "whee!" and "ahhh!"  Being pitched in the deep end is a terrifying kind of fun to have.

One sticking point has been Smiley Boy.  I'm suddenly a lot busier, and he's lost one of his playmates.  Yesterday I barely had any time to spend with him, and today I've received word of a new project that is going to soak up a very unknown quantity of time ... I have no idea yet how my days are going to lay out, or when I'm going to do what bits, and in the meantime Smiley Boy wanders into my bedroom/office now and then, asking if there's time for a hug (there's always time for a hug) or if I can come and play with him (sadly, I can't always do that).  He'll ask in this mournful, pity-me voice, "Don't you even want to play with me?"

Arrgh.  How do you answer that?  Yes, I want to play with you, kiddo, but I also want to do this work that will pay me actual money, which I need to run the rest of my life.

I'm not going to ignore Smiley Boy for the sake of making money.  But I'm also going to be less available to him if I get busy with more work, which I frankly need to do.  I have no idea how to sort that out yet, and the tension hurts.  Even if I know Smiley Boy is playing me a little with his mournful questions (he's four, it's his job to try to get what he wants), it still hurts.

Phooey.