The Form
You may not know this if you don't have kids, but when your child is born, the hospital hands you a form that has to be signed. It's a declaration that you won't get sick for the next eighteen years.I felt terrible when I went to bed last night, and I was looking forward to sleeping in, not going to work, and recuperating.
I had, of course, forgotten about the form.
Eli 4.6 woke up twice last night, at 11 p.m. and 1:30 a.m. At 6:15, he bursts into our room. With a flashlight. "GOOD MORNING!" he shouts. Then he crawls into bed with us, and since he has a flashlight, he immediately crawls under the cover. Ten seconds pass. "HEY! I CAN SEE YOUR UNDERWEAR!" Fifteen seconds pass. "I'm hiding, guys. Can you find me? I'll give you one hint--the word is 'COVERS'." After we "find" him, he wriggles under the blankets until he reaches the end of the bed, where he pops out. "LET'S GO DOWNSTAIRS!" he shouts.
Gloria went downstairs, not me, so I'm thinking that I can still get some decent sleep. At 7:10, though, Chinese New Year arrives. I open the door and go into Eli's room, where Gloria is using the wet vac, which basically sounds like a leaf blower being used indoors.
There was apparently an "incident" with a snow globe.
So on a day when I'm sleeping in and resting because I'm ill, I wind up at work. Forty-five minutes early.
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