It’s Monday and I have coffee.
Thank the Goddess. It has been one of those weekends when sleep and I weren’t even in the same house, much less the same page or even the same book. Sleep stood outside my bedroom window for most of the weekend, laughing and pointing at me as I tossed and turned. Sleep is a real bitch.
The Birthday Boy.
June is full of birthdays for our dysfunctionally functional extended family, and today is the birthday of the reigning patriarch, Santa Claus Vern, my dad. He is 65, officially a senior citizen by all major commercial ventures. But don’t think that means he doesn’t have it. Because he has it. The man is a chick magnet. I guess Santa Clones are a hot property among women. Worked with his wife, who is 14 years younger! So, Happy Birthday, Dad! Yes, it is clickable to see Santa Claus the birthday boy full-size.
What is wrong with my child?!
I think Ty is just plain silly. And only did the fact that he was being silly save him yesterday afternoon! I sat down on the floor to sort and fold laundry, a chore that thrills me like no other. I have all four of their baskets around me, as well as my own, and Ty decides it would be a fabulous idea to use the baskets as stepping stones to get from where I was to the living room. I mean, really. Can YOU think of a better place to walk than through laundry baskets of clean laundry? ESPECIALLY when that laundry is being folded and put into those same baskets? I can totally see his logic. Especially when he decided to sit down in the basket. On top of freshly laundered and folded clothes. When I was trying to add more folded clothes to it. Great idea. Really. Eventually, he HAD to expect some type of retribution. I mean, he is cute and all, but how far did he think that was going to take him?! So, this is what happens when you sit in your oldest brother’s basket while he is trying to fill it. You end up with a shirt over your head like a noose. You end up with said brother’s boxers on your head. You end up pinned in the very same laundry basket and tickled to the point of almost peeing. He did, in fact, yell, “I’M GONNA PEE! DONOVAN, I’M GONNA PEE!” He didn’t. Both are clickable to see his torture in full, glorious color!
Then, the same strange child apparently thought that wearing underwear on your head was only a bad idea when it was someone ELSE’S underwear. Tighty grays are an interesting look on anyone, but particularly hot on 5yo’s with attitude. Doesn’t he look inordinately and weirdly proud of himself in the first picture?! But I think the angry face in the second picture is more than a little undermined by the tighty grays. How do you take a guy seriously when his hair is sticking out of the legs of his underwear and the tricky man flap is on your forehead?! Clickable, if you really want to see my UnderGeek!
And apparently, the child doesn’t learn that perhaps sitting/standing/walking in the clean lundry is NOT necessarily a fabby idea after all. Doesn’t he look happy? Glad HE is.
And a totally random shot that has nothing to do with anything.