Trot, in his seemingly never ending quest to send me over the edge, doesn't like to go to bed. Every night, without fail, he gets up at LEAST 3 times. Doesn't matter if he's had a nap or stayed awake, been outside running for 6 consecutive hours or cooped up indoors with nothing but the PS2 and the toilet to keep him entertained, or drugged with Percosat when I just can't take........Forget that last part.
Bottom line is the kid views bedtime like some deranged game between myself and him and the goal seems to be for me to completely blow my stack. Tonight, after putting him back down twice I thought I was in the clear and called my Mom to make sure she wasn't packing her bags and moving to Mexico in the morning due to watching my future rabble rouser the last two days.
After apologizing profusely for his various transgressions this afternoon, I hung up and went upstairs to get on the computer.
And there he was. Fast asleep on his stomach, Teddy Bear laying underneath his arm, with his head positioned just around the corner so he could see the tv.
I'd like to think he wanted to watch the Red Sox game. I'd like to think he just doesn't want to be away from us. I'd like to think he doesn't go to bed just so he doesn't miss anything that might happen.
But I'm pretty sure he's trying to kill me by making my head explode.
I think Stephen King wrote a novel about this once.
4 comments:
Heee heee
Yuck it up, little brother.
The boyfriend talk is coming sooner than you think.
I think he probably doesn't want to miss anything.
Making your head explode is just gravy. :)
Nah; he's out to get me.
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