Dear Loving Husband,
When I left for the grocery store earlier this afternoon, things were all as they should be.
You were playing your video game.
Colebert was playing with stickers (see below):
I had the go-ahead to handle my business outside my mother ship. You let me know you boys would be fine for a few minutes while I ran an errand or two.
When I returned home, at nearly 6 p.m., I opened the door to this image:
*Please take note of the two items marked in red. 1) the stickers on the furniture now, as opposed to his face (where I told him he could put as many stickers as he wanted… just as long as NONE ended up on the furniture or the floor. 2) the boy passed out cold at 6 p.m.
The sticker issue, I feel, is an obvious one. I realize that you have never had to scrape the remains of a sticker that has been firmly pressed into hardwood or any painted surface, personally, but I know you’ve seen me do it. It’s quite a pain in my ass. My issue with the nap is this: IT’S 6 P.M.! This is the formula for an all nighter with a crazy Cole.
I know I may have really let you down when I was slightly more than peeved, as opposed to thankful, when I walked in tonight. I appreciate the effort. I know he has been resisting the nap all day and you finally won the battle. Thanks, honey.
Now you know I don’t believe in waking children up – ever. Not only is it just against everything I stand for, but we’re in agreement that Cole is the crankiest kid, ever, when he is woken up. Honestly, I don’t have the strength to deal with it today.
Since it is already 9 p.m. and Cole still hasn’t stirred, I’ve decided that if Cole does wake up, we’re telling him it’s the middle of the night and he needs to go back to bed. This is cruel because 1) he hasn’t eaten dinner and 2) because I know he’s going to be semi-trippin thinking he knows it was daytime when he passed out.
Regardless, that’s the plan.
It wasn’t long after we (I) devised this plan that you, honey, passed out too.
11 p.m. – I start to wonder if the kid is feeling okay. Tomorrow is his party. It would be a shame if he got sick right now. I resist the urge to go take his temperature, knowing that the slightest sound within a 5 ft. radius will most likely wake him. I’m also growing more resentful towards you as the minutes pass. Thanks, honey.
11:30 p.m – I can’t even do anything productive because I’m afraid of making too much noise. I cannot comfortably go to sleep because I know he will wake up about 10 minutes after I doze off wanting waffles or some shit. There’s nothing worse than being woken up right after you fall asleep. Although you wouldn’t know anything about that, would you honey?
So here I sit. Anxious and non-productive. I blame you.