Things have been really difficult around here the last few weeks. James's sleeping habits have gone from bad to worse--night after night he wakes up eight, nine, ten times or more. And oh, I have a lot to say about sleep, sleep-deprivation, motherhood, rage, expert advice, toddlers and discipline, and the difference between child-abusers and the rest of us (hint: it involves being able to get help when you need it), but writing all that is just too damn exhausting.
So here's what I've got instead.
Postprandial conversation on the near west side.
Me: I'm thinking of going to a movie on Thursday night. That OK with you?
Peter: Oh! (Expressive of amazement, because I haven't gone to a movie in the theater for more than 3 years). Sure. I guess we can have our frat party here.
Me: Call in the Swedish dancing girls.
Henry: I want to have the girlie party Wednesday.
Me: That's nice. You want me to feel included, huh?
Henry: I want to have a girlie party RIGHT NOW.
Me: Who's going to come to your girlie party?
Henry: Girlies! (Duh.)
Me: Who are the girlies?
Henry: The girlies are aminals. Who live in the water.
Me: What do they look like?
Henry: They look like lily pads with frogs on them and the frogs go up up in the sky.
Peter: I think this sounds more like an acid party.
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