Thing 2 woke up last night at 11:30. He turned his bedroom light on, all by himself, and then he gathered up all of his Thomas Trains for a nearly-midnight run down the tracks. There was much animation and voices for the trains being thrown out, because someone said, “Whoa! Train crash! Are you okay?”
His mama assured him that we have a strict NO TRAIN TRIPS AFTER 7:30 PM policy, because 7:30 PM is also known as BEDTIME, BEDTIME, OH GLORIOUS BEDTIME.
We also have a very strict NO TRAIN CRASHES AFTER 7:30 PM policy, too, because Thing 2 enjoys crashing his trains on the tracks more than he does taking them for a leisurely, tourist-y type drive to see the fall foliage out the train windows, while the conductor sings songs about hot chocolate. Hubs and I don’t know if we should be worried about this or not, but we’ve decided NOT. Thing 2 may enjoy causing nineteen-car pileups on the train tracks and inquiring about the physical health of all the passengers afterward, but the boy always, always, ALWAYS wanted to be the bad guy from every movie he ever saw when he was in preschool. We didn’t have a Batman or a Luke Skywalker or a Peter Pan; we had the Joker and Darth Maul and Captain Hook. Since the boy turned out okay, even with his desire to wear black capes and steal from the poor, we’re guessing that his younger brother and his penchant for wrecking the Burlington Northern (so that the National Transportation Safety Board has to come in and do a full-on investigation and ask if anyone was hopped up on sugar at the time of the accident) will be just fine, too.
By 2:00 this morning, Thing 2 was back to sleeping.
By 4:00 this morning, so I was.
And that is going to be the card that I play tonight, as I admit that I just needed to belly up to the bar at Starbucks all day and ask the baristas to keep the caffeine coming, before I simply fell over and took a nap at their counter. It’s bedtime, y’all, and I couldn’t be happier about that.
But, before I go, I’ll just show you that Thing 2 still managed to look cute today, even though he’d been awake for long hours. His mother, on the other hand, managed to have one of those days, where the hot rollers and the makeup and the outfit just didn’t cooperate, and she really just looked a lot like this:
(And… just to be clear… I DID NOT take that picture. I stole it off the World Wide Web and am in danger of being placed in solitary confinement for copyright infringements, because we don’t have Barbies at our house that we can have photo shoots with.)
(#Boyhouse #Legos #BBGuns #PeeOnTheFloorNearTheToilet)
That about sums up The Look that I went to work with this morning, but I think my exhausted eyes were a bit droopier.
And they’re also brown, instead of blue.
But Thing 2 looked like he should have been wearing Ralph Lauren on the runways for a fashion show today, even though he simply wore his SIGNATURE SHIRT, which my sister bought for him.
I’ve never thought that it was fair that it’s so much easier for boys to throw on jeans and a T-shirt and simply look better than the girls who spend an hour and a half in front of the mirror, begging the hot rollers to work some magic, as they hold cold cucumber slices to their eyeballs and cross their fingers that the bags disappear.
Y’all have a merry night and try to get some sleep.