My kid is still having a hard time adjusting to the time change, so it's not much of a surprise that he burst into my room at 11:33pm last night. What was odd was his request. He wanted me to turn his fan on.
Hello. It's the middle of friggin' winter here in Colorado. That, and our thermostat turns off at night. It's already cold enough. After stumbling out of bed and across the frozen tundra to his room I discovered his ceiling fan no longer works. The bugger is broken, which is Ok by me. It wasn't, however, Ok by him. I know this because not but an hour later he came bouncing into my room and up on my bed. Sleeping with me isn't something he's tried to do for some time now, maybe because angels heard my prayers?
Normally, I would have sent him off to his own bed but last night I was far too tired to argue about it. I can't count for you the number of times I was woken last night with tiny feet in my face, or abruptly disturbed by a sudden miniature snore.
I was half hoping he would fall off the bed so at least I could get a good laugh in through out the whole ordeal.
And do you know what my first thought was this morning (aside from the various ways I could make my kid disappear)? I thought to myself, "I can't wait till this day is over so I can go to bed."
And then it occurred to me that starting off your day by thinking about the next time you get to go back to sleep may not be the best way to go.
Does anyone have a frying pan? One of those really heavy iron ones? I hear those are good for knocking out cranky bitches like myself. I could use a little nap.
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