Attrition lives to see today because he was safely ensconced in my office, not dragging chairs anywhere. Attrition is not the sole proprietor of stupidville. I live there, too, and at times we inhabit the town jointly and even purpose to go there. Namely, for "fun." Our definition of "fun" remains sketchy when bundled up in the woods under a new moon investigating the "activities" of our neighbors.(Those folk could keep us occupied for life). But there are areas of stupidville Attrition roams alone because he has yet to procreate. Or maybe I inhabit areas of stupiville because I've chosen to procreate and no longer have to go to others because I learned other things in that process. That's like five or six posts right there with the summary post titled "I would have done it all over again anyway."
Regardless, Squib was hanging on to me like a fly on stink and wouldn't go out with me to tame the chairs, so we went into Buddy's room and woke him up to "help." What an awful idea THAT was. Buddy left by his side door and slammed all the chairs around and put a cinder-block on the bottom of the stack of chairs. The noise he made was so deafening that Squib decided there would be no sleeping in the bedroom. In ANY bedroom. So....that leaves the....
SOFA. You know, I love it that you are so smart. Yes, the ever-present "I-used-to-be-marigold-yellow-tufted-silk-in-1959-wouldn't-Jackie-love-me" sofa. It turned fifty last year. God bless it.
Otherwise known as my bed when I'm here (yes, there's a perfectly good queen in the office...), the sofa is not a two-person deal. Not even a person-and-a-half deal. OK, perhaps not even a one-person deal. Nevertheless, we shared. He finally fell asleep after an hour of discussion (it just seemed like longer because the discussion involved body parts) but I have to admit, as it happens, that I love the feel of his warm little body up against mine and the smell of baby shampoo, and even, yes, good old Vitamin D-enriched whole milk milk-breath.
Squib sorta sleeps like a paddle on an electric mixer. Spinning and spinning and spinning. And spinning. This is an activity very contrary to breathing or sleeping. So the night sounded like "Spin. UFF! Ok, it's ok. Go back to sleep honey." Lather, rinse, repeat.
Mommy woke up a little frazzled with...witch Hilda hair that reached the ceiling. Dear God, who are we kidding? I had a fro. Little man's hair just looked, well, cool--according to him. Maybe it was cool in a Robert-Pattinson-Twilight sort of way that the four-year-old seems to like. And that is just what I need...a sparkly 4yo vampire. Yay.
On the side, a little freebie for anyone who ventured out to read me today, Squib has joined up in the effort to teach Beanstalk new words. Yesterday he taught him "rainbow." And how to match all the cars up according to color and make a rainbow out of cars. I thought this was good. Educational. However, I learned that this is important, you know, because then you can learn the word "DAMAGE!!!!!" which must be said in the growliest of voices as you wreak havoc on the unsuspecting rainbow of cars or the small city you have just built. All things built must be DAAMMMAAGGEEEDDDD! RAR!!! It is the way of things. RAWR.
Damage wears me out. So do Anatomy practicals. Oh, and my sympathies to Kansas...yes the whole state--March Madness ensues and every so often there is a big freaking surprise. I didn't even get to watch the game.