Thursday, October 01, 2009


"MOM!!" he yells one morning as he comes zipping into my bedroom where, nevermind, I am still fast asleep, but he, morning person that he is, is wide awake and raring to go, so really, that's all that matters 'round here.

"Huh?...yes?...wha?...what happened? What's wrong, Bubba?" I mumble, as I sit bolt upright in the middle of the bed, sending about 30 throw pillows flying across the room. (Hey, I get lonely at night. Don't judge.)

"Mama, Mama, did you know we were under attack?!?!?" he stares at me, almost panic-stricken, from the foot of my bed.

"What are you talking about, baby? Who's attacking us?" I ask, groggily rubbing my eyes and reaching for my clock. When does this boy ever sleep???

"We're under attack by invasive pests, Mom. California is. Invasive pests are attacking California. Didn't you know?" he implores, still standing at the foot of my bed, but gesturing wildly now.

"Invasive what?" I ask.

"PESTS, Mom! In-va-sive pests! We have to do something. We just have to. Can we help?"

"Oh, invasive pests, huh? I see." feeling just slighty annoyed as I glance over his shoulder, confirm that, no, in fact, the sun is still not yet up, realize I fell asleep with the TV on, and that he's been watching the infomercial for for the last half hour.


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