Thursday, May 13, 2010


It was about 5:45 yesterday morning (or some such ridiculousness) when the boy snuggled into the bed right up next to me, propped up his pillow, piled about 3 books between us, pulled up the covers to his chin...

and turned on the bedside lamp!


"Sorry, Mama!" he fake-whispers. (I still don't know why he hasn't learned how to whisper properly.)

And then he proceeds to read, half to himself, half to me, as I begin to drift back to sleep to the sounds of Wolverine.

But no sooner was I imagining myself lounged out on the Amalfi Coast being hand-fed grapes, and wine, and cheese by a...

"MAMA!!!" he whisper-yells.


"Huh? Wha?!" I reluctantly peek out from beneath the coolness of my pillow.

"MAMA!" he says again, much less gently.

"Uhhnnn...yes, Bubba?" I roll over. "What is it?"

And he's sitting there with a huge face-encompassing toothless grin, holding the big chomper in his hand like a trophy.

"I pulled it out, Mama!" he proclaims proudly.

"I just reached in and yanked it right out."

"Oh, Bubba, congratulations!!" I say. "We need to get it into your toothbox for the Tooth Fairy tonight."

"Oh, no," he says. "I think I better brush it first."

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