My kitchen window currently looks like this:
Yes, someone threw a rock through the window. In a neighborhood with so many kids, it’s impossible to tell which one was the culprit.
Impossible, that is, unless I happened to be standing inside my house right by the window when the accident occurred.
That enabled me to see the stunned expression on the child’s face moments before she fled from the scene of the crime.
That Brooke is a pretty fast runner when guilt is nipping at her heels.
I was up all last night with He Who Refuses to Sleep. His inability or lack of desire to sleep for longer than three hours at night is killing me. That’s simply all there is to it.
I like to play a fun game while I’m up with him. I look at his sweet baby face and think that in about 15 years his upper lip and chin will start sprouting facial hair. Then I imagine him with a mustache. And a full beard. Sometimes just a goatee.
Wanna play? Go ahead. Here’s a picture so you can visualize better:
If you didn’t find that wildly entertaining, I invite you to try again at about 3:30 a.m. I’ve found the game works best at about that time.
And hey, while you’re up, want to come over and man a shift for me?
