This is my newest work. I call it Boys Strangled By Seatbelts.
This is what they did on the way to the airport this afternoon, which was a mercy. They are so tired. There is only so much fun you can have before your circuits just go right up in flames. They were in bed at 8:00 tonight and I think they were asleep before I shut the bedroom door.
It was their first night without a story in a while. I mean, sure, they got a book before bed, but Grandma was not there on a mattress in the same room to tell them a 45-minute customized bed time story complete with huge RV campers and people named Squinky. Or something. I wasn’t paying close attention.
Paul and I were discussing the relative quality of the “stories” they get from us when they are in our room after bedtime and we nearly laughed ourselves sick.
GO TO BED.
Are you bleeding? Do you have a broken bone? No? Then WHY ARE YOU HERE?
If you make me get out of this bed, I am going to be VERY UNHAPPY. How happy do you think YOU will be then?
GO. TO. BED. Right now!!!
The poor little urchins. Is it any wonder they adore their grandma?
You know what I adore? I adore my bed. I may want to marry it. I laid down on it when we got home and literally groaned with happiness.
There’s probably a lesson somewhere in there about attachment to creature comforts and what that means for my soul, but I will have to think about that tomorrow.
Tonight, I shall wallow in my homebody-ness. And my giant, cozy, fantabulous bed.