This being our third round of brain cancer surgery and treatment, I thought I’d have a better handle on things. At least, I thought I knew how I WOULD handle things. It turns out that in my old age (ha ha ha) my stress reaction has changed from blind faith and delusion to narcolepsy. I nap, for the first time in my life, pretty much any time a sudden stressful shock comes my way.
I’ve done a lot of napping. Sometimes in the bed, sometimes on the couch in the living room, sometimes on the couch in my office, a few times on the floor, and at least once in an exam room waiting for a doctor who was running late.
Well, today I was scrolling through my phone and I discovered… well…
The children notice me napping. And they are taking advantage. Not only are they taking advantage of my sleeping to engage in mischief, but they’re documenting themselves. With my phone.
See, I have a few weird sleep behaviors. When I’m asleep, I occasionally talk to people. I occasionally remember bits of those conversations, too, like snippets of a dream. So I am about 75% sure that the kids found me on the couch and I said something to them before this activity began in earnest.
Ask mother if she wants a blanket. Establish that she is asleep. Concoct scheme.
Get every pillow in the room, every blanket in the room, and terrifying Prince Harry mask. Put them on the mother.
There are more pillows and blankets in the house. Find them. Careful not to actually suffocate the mother, or wake her, as both create obstacles to further shenanigans.
Use this opportunity to get some more screen time in, watching YouTube completely unhindered. Go for the stuff Mommy NEVER lets you watch. Head straight for the “Inspector Spacetime” gag reel.
Resume covering the mother in pillows, blankets, and now stuffed animals. Careful not to disturb her computer and glasses, you can work around them.
Now that you’ve run out of things with which to hide your mother, cover the stuffed animals in blankets and objects as well. For safety’s sake.
Get distracted and disappear, returning only when the doorbell rings and your confused mother wakes up enough to call out, “Can somebody take some of this stuff off me?” Which three giggling children do, and the mother rouses herself just enough to remember that she’s alive and has stuff to do, and is too groggy to wonder what the heck you were doing sleeping with Prince Harry.
All I wanted was a nap. And I would have gotten away with it, too, if it weren’t for those meddling kids.
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Read about my ridiculous children here: The Tale of My Daughters’ Penises
Read my most recent post here: An Atheist Tefilah
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