Thursday, May 18, 2006

my son the ostrich

Now that he's a wriggler, Daniel's sleeping habits suggest he is a candidate for being superglued to the bed on his back.

Case in point: I found him asleep with the bedcovers over his head the other day, possibly to re-enact the famous Blanket event of 2003, sans the balcony dangle and associated superfreak, but most likely to deprive himself of all that lovely, lovely oxygen and get the free buzz as, once his bedclothes were promptly eighty sixed in favor of layering the boy up like a lasagne before bedtime, he subsequently tried stuffing his head under a pillow. With his Inspector Gadget-like arms giving him extendo-abilities and leading him down that particular path of self destruction, every skerrick of anything within a ten foot radius was removed so that Mr Deebs was sleeping in the bedroom equivilant of a barren wasteland. Dude was determined though, to not be foiled in his mission to, I dunno, turn blue? and this morning, he'd flipped himself over and buried his face in the mattress.


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