I started the day with high hopes of retaining the crews' tentative loyalty. Since the fastest way to my heart is with food, I decided that was a good starting point.
I managed to find enough items in our provisions to make a batch of pancakes for the crew. Initially, the Curly Haired One was not impressed. He complained loudly about the lack of blueberries and granola available. His complaints soon turned to concern over the shape of the promised pancakes. Once he was able to convince me that they should all be circles, and have mango preserves smeared on top, harmony returned to our little camp.
After breakfast the Curly Haired One buried his face into my shoulder and sang "jingle bells". When I expressed confusion over the ritual, he explained that he was "singing in to me".
My spirits were lightened.
The Mostly Bald One continues to improve. As evidence by the many dancing parties he has tried to start. Sadly none of the attempts have resulted in a full out dance party.
A well-timed humanitarian package arrived in the afternoon. A sense of peace enveloped our little camp for a few brief hours. Long enough for us to band together as a family, instead of feuding like rival mafia dons.
Bedtime continues to be difficult. Tonight it was the Tall Redheaded One that tried to prolong the inevitable. The Mostly Bald One fell asleep while I cleared away the remnants of dinner. I tried to immortalize the moment, but as soon as I had photographic evidence, he woke up. The Tall Redheaded One tried to start a conversation about abstract theories, and I snapped. In a fit of exhaustion I announced that anyone not asleep would be eating quinoa for dinner the next day.
Tomorrow's dinner is quinoa.