I'm still trying to get George broken from sleeping with me. It's not working too well. I can sit with him 'til he falls asleep and then in an hour or two or three he's awake and slipping into my room.
Secretly, I feel safer having him near me. I felt that way with Vanessa, too.
Lately, George is not going to bed as he ought. So he's losing a solid hour or so of sleep each night. First it was because spring break was coming, now it's because he's getting back into the swing of things with spring break being over.
So, the alarm goes off. I hit snooze.
4 or 5 times!
Eventually Kent comes home from work and calls me. This is the real alarm. Definitely time to get up!
I get up. He gets up. I go potty. He goes downstairs and covers up on the couch.
Kent warms George's clothes in the dryer.
I go downstairs and start looking for something to wear.
I have nothing to wear.
George's turn to get dressed.
His pants don't fit.
But I know it's only the beginning so I either (1) get in the shower or (2) head upstairs to go to the bathroom or find something to wear or (3) decide to treat myself to a few moments of blog time.
And the list of injustices continue:
His shirt doesn't fit.
The dog won't leave him alone.
He doesn't like to eat that any more.
His socks don't match.
They're too small.
His shoes are too lose.
He doesn't want to wear those shoes.
He brushed his teeth last night, why does he need to do it again?
He doesn't like that kind of food.
His tummy hurts.
His shirt feels funny.
He doesn't know where his library book is.
Where did he leave his gloves?
He doesn't need his boots.
Uh uh! There's not that much snow out there.
And I listen to this with a small smile on my face: Kent deserves to deal with this.
It's his turn.
I did it for years.
Well, time for the shower.
I still don't have anything to wear.
And those shoes hurt my feet.
That shirt doesn't look right.
I wore that last week.
Maggie, dog, leave me alone.
Get out of my room!
What are you eating!!????