Not In Control

Ailz has until midnight to finish her last Shakespeare essay. Fine. She's paced herself. And then her father has a fall and she has to go round to sort things out and soothe her mother's nerves. "I should have more sense than to be falling over at my age," says her father.  He's been falling a lot lately. This time he blames it on his shoes. So she spends all morning over there, while I metaphorically bite my nails and fret about the approaching deadline. 

I hate it when there's nothing I can do...

Update

Carl just knocked on the door and asked to be given a coffee. "She's doing her essay,"  I said,  through gritted teeth.  But then she sings out from upstairs, "I've finished."

In the event she resumed work on the essay at 3.00. and completed it an hour later. I needn't have worried.

I get very protective. Like a watchdog. Like a dragon.