In the continuing saga of “We’re Doomed”…
The alarm starts the radio this morning and WifeOfTheBigUglyManDoll hits snooze. The secondary alarm walks in and asks for breakfast – the Very Hungry 7-yr-Old would like two slices of leftover pizza. “Sure,” says I, and I get up and fetch his pizza while he fetches a plate. I warm it up in the nuclearwave oven, which is deliberately located 6 feet up and over the stove, so that said 7-yr-old can’t reach it. I hand it to him, he retreats to the table, and I retreat to my blankets.
I missed the next round of snooze with the alarm, but shortly thereafter the Very Hungry 7-Yr-Old returns to the side of my bed. “I’d like two more slices of pizza, please.”
“Mmm. I think maybe one more slice.”
“But I would really like two slices,” he says, as the snooze comes off and the radio grows slowly louder. “Don’t make me play classical music at you,” says I, as WifeOfTheBigUglyManDoll hits snooze again. “One slice.”
The Very Hungry 7-yr-Old climbs up on the bed next to me, looks at my head on the pillow and says, “Two slices and you get to go back to bed.”
“Deal,” says I, as WifeOfTheBigUglyManDoll falls out of bed laughing. Not like I shouldn’t have been up 20 minutes ago anyway, but he CLEARLY knows I don’t want to get up…