So, I’m sitting in here in the rocking chair in the small fry’s room, trying to get him to go to sleep for his nap by playing Italian lullaby songs on my computer and it’s totally backfiring. My eyes are so droopy, his…not so much. In fact, I just was sort of jolted awake because he had snuck out to go potty, and then came back in trying to pull his underwear up and started doing that turning around thing that we all do (own it) when pulling up our stuff and jumping a little to help and then that makes you turn real fast in circles, and all of a sudden he went down and completely yard saled.
I laughed so hard I snorted, and then he started laughing, and then quickly shifted into telling me about how much he likes worm a lot a lot a lot, and also Wednesdays.
I am so very comfortable in the fact that I completely follow his logic. I like Wednesdays, too. Verdict’s still out on the degree to which I like worms, though.
This comes on the heels of a very disappointing afternoon for The Reverend. Hank started about two years ago to entirely, unabashedly, and unequivocally embrace his deeply buried redneck roots, and just recently as an homage to that and other stuff, he joined a gun club. Range. I really don’t know what the heck it’s called, but it’s named “Trigger Time,” which ironically is weirdly close to “Tigger Time,” the name of the before/after school program at the 6yo’s elementary school last year. I’m sure they do the same stuff at both.
Today, he took the 6yo and a couple of neighbor guys to the gun show with him. Stupidly, I thought this meant they were going to stand around and compare their biceps, so I put on a short-sleeved short and started to bust out my moves, but they just got in Hank’s truck and drove away. Not before, though, Hank had the chance to explain to the 2yo that he couldn’t go to the gun show, because I was going to take him to the nap show.
The Rev was ecstatic.
Nothing had ever sounded so fun.
He ate his lunch nicely, went to potty, and asked sweetly and excitedly if I was ready.
Oh boy was I.
And then when we came upstairs, he cried. And cried and cried and cried. The nap show is crap, not fun, and really, really crap.
He also just told me that he wasn’t going to wake up dry AND he wanted to sleep in his brother’s bed for naptime. Double bonus.
So what’s a Mom to do?
Arrange for a duel, of course. En garde!
And that is all.