He's Such A Sweet Kid...

...except when he's in a hurry to watch Thomas the Tank Engine.

Sunday morning, he leaps into my bed at 7 AM to watch his programme-unaware that I was still asleep beneath the mound of blankets. Ever have forty pounds of muscular kid jump with great force on your upper back? No? That's good, because it hurts.

Strangely, I wasn't in terrible pain yesterday-I even managed to go out and do some grocery shopping. I slept well enough last night. I woke this morning at 6 AM with the most incredible pain that seemed to get worse with tasks like, bending, and breathing. You know, activities in a typical day. I managed to hang the laundry fine until I got to the lower part of the drying rack. Kneeling wasn't a problem, but standing back up gave a sort of pulling/tearing pain, and then I couldn't easily catch my breath. So yeah, the obvious thing to do was assemble a terrine, make noodles, and organise the winter clothing into my closet. You probably didn't know that "Goody" is Old Norse for "Idiot woman that can't stop cooking and cleaning." Oh wait, you're right, not Norse, Low German. I just asked the linguist. Did you know there are over 700 words in modern German to describe colour coordinating the linen closet?

All kidding aside, I'm trying to keep this from Danny-I don't want him feeling bad about something he really couldn't help. I'm almost always up by that hour, and he obviously didn't do it intentionally.

When did my little 6lb. baby grow into such a great, big, kid? A great, big, kid that refuses to get a haircut ("Mama, if I cut my moptop off how will I get screaming girls to chase after me?"). OK fair enough, can't really argue with that reasoning. I had to go and rent Hard Day's Night, didn't I? He spends an awful lot of time before the bedroom mirror admiring his hair. Geez.


*Danny calls this his "Professor" jacket. He insists on wearing it around the house, sometimes over pajamas, and being addressed as, "Little Professor" . He's taken to calling us "Professor 48, and Professor 40-ish (hey, I'm not divulging my age). This was eventually shortened to calling us by our ages. I sort of miss "Mama and Papa", but it is better than "Parental Units." I knew, early on that I didn't have the personality to succeed as an academic (I can be rather sarcastic, but actual ruthless cruelty isn't my sort of thing) and frankly, I'm just not a terribly ambitious person. Still, if Danny is determined to pursue an academic career, I suppose I ought to teach him some key phrases that may prove helpful along the way. Somehow, it sounds much cuter when a four year old is saying:
"You lack analytical rigour, your thesis is pedestrian, and your mama reads Sausseur."

That's professor Dannypants to you.