Of Course, Maybe It’s The Pulverized Advil PM We Put In His Spaghetti-Os

Man, for all the bitching and moaning I did for Noah’s first three years of life about his abysmal sleeping habits (I didn’t have a blog for most of that time, so you’ll have to just trust me on that one) I have to give it to him – now that he’s four he sleeps like he’s dead.  This comes in especially handy, as Rosie likes to mix it up every couple of nights and caterwaul like a harpy with absolutely no warning.  There’ve been (uh, a couple of) nights we’ve been in there for a good thirty minutes with Rosie fish-flopping in our arms at a decibel that would shatter glass (and/or eardrums) and Noah doesn’t so much as twitch a limb.  A couple of nights ago he fell out of bed onto the floor and though he wailed a bit, he was back asleep before I could even lay him down again (which makes me think he never even woke up in the first place).

Of course the flip side is that some nights he takes an hour to GET dead to sleep, coming out of his room on multiple occasions to tell us he’s scared (see: rats) or (less often) that he needs a drink of water (The Age Old Bedtime Avoidance Method. Pretty sure Jesus got out of the manger with that excuse once or twice.) The scared routine has gotten pretty stale with L and I, and in case you didn’t know “stale” is the point at which parenting skills take a sharp downturn. After Noah’s third (or maybe sixtieth, who can even keep count anymore) trip out to the living room in the name of I’m Scared one night, L turned to me and not-so-sotto-voce said “Do you think it would make him feel better if I told him the monsters would eat Rosie first?”And I actually considered for a moment if it would.

Linky Dink

I have been spending too much (valuable rat-thwarting) time passive aggressively enjoying this site.

Although this may be the funniest thing I have seen in a long while. (Although the humor is supposedly unintentional.) (Presumably.) (Doubtfully.) (At least I hope doubtfully.)

I bought this for Noah (because HI HAVE YOU MET HIM) and have been eagerly awaiting it in the mail (for a MONTH and yes, I have had words with the seller already) so that in case he’s not home and someone who doesn’t know him comes to visit I can just point to it and say, “This pretty much sums it up.”

To Whom It May Concern

While I was cooking dinner a few nights ago (a Festivus miracle!), Noah was bent over in mad concentration with a coloring book.  At one point he asked me to spell the word “found,” which might have seemed odd if he hadn’t already asked me 634 other random off the wall questions that day like “Did dragons come before or after dinosaurs?” and “What does ‘wispy’ mean?” (I invite you to try to come up with a quick four-year-old friendly definition of “wispy.” IT CANNOT BE DONE. ) So I spelled it and finished fricaseeing the vittles (What are vittles, exactly?  I imagine them to be some sort of meat chunks with a sauce like substance. My Mac dictionary cannot define them for me, which may be a good reason never to eat anything called vittles.) and did the dinner drill and the various other frillion things that surround that (hellish) hour of the day and forgot totally about that small interaction until later that night when I passed by the table and saw this lying open on the table:

Triumphant, Noah has spotted the location of the Spidey imposter!  BUT BOY HOWDY HE’S NOT TELLING YOU WHERE.