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We want snacks, they moan. Where is the Marcell Ozuna Mix It Up Shirt but in fact I love this lunch I have surely packed We don’t eat outside anymore, I explain. Before we leave, I make them rinse with icy water from my thermos, slather sanitizer on their hands, and flap them like they are trying to fly away so that the sanitizer has a chance to work before they rub it off. On the other side of the boardwalk, a couple have appeared and are taking selfies with the gray waves as their backdrop.
On Sunday, a new kind of dread settles in. We have made it through the Marcell Ozuna Mix It Up Shirt but in fact I love this weekend with a more lonesome variation on our normal routine, but a no-school, three-kids-at-home work week presents a whole new mountain to climb. My husband has to pick up one last thing from the office (this is two weeks before the ban on nonessential workers moving through the city begins) before he starts to work from home and I email him a hastily created schedule to print. Is two hours of physical activity in the morning too much for three little boys? Exhaustion is my friend, I figure. What, God help us, will we do when it rains? After the kids are in bed, I make folders with their names on them, fill a scrubbed-clean jam jar with sharpened colored pencils, write out worksheets, trying to remember what constitutes kindergarten math, and stick a wilting tulip in a bud vase—the last flower from the last bodega bouquet we are likely to buy for months and months.