The Laws of Physics Do Not Apply to Kids
Monday, June 25th, 2007 10:11 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
auntbijouSo, what I'd like to know is, how can a kid who is only a little over three feet tall, and weighs 42 pounds soaking wet, take over an entire full sized mattress? The Impossible Son, still not completely over his virus of last week, woke up and climbed into bed with us. The Husbandly One got up to answer a call from the Impertinent Daughter (are we good at double-teaming or what?) and I lay in the bed, wondering why I was perched on the edge of the mattress, about to fall off while Mr. Manzie was star-fished over MY side. I lifted up my head to look over his snoring face, and saw an entire EXPANSE of bed, completely un-sprawled over!
After the Husbandly One came back to bed, I gave up and went to sleep in Mr. Manzie's bed. Yeah, I know, I could have just carried him back to bed myself, but you know what? He's 42 pounds when he's awake. When he's asleep, well, for those of you without children, it is a little known fact but, children have this odd capability that can occur when waking or sleeping. They have the ability to increase local gravity so that when you try to pick them up, it becomes virtually impossible! What was once a 42 pound child suddenly turns into a 800 pound mini-gorilla. Add that to the fact that he's completely limp (i.e. Noodle Boy), and you can tack on another 2000 pounds to that total. Plus I'M tired, and now I have the virus... it was just easier to go sleep in his bed!
I now sound like...well, I think I described it to a friend as "Louis Armstrong in Hell." Actually, that was... Saturday. Today, I sound even worse. Squeaks, random croaks... The Husbandly One, and the Impertinent Daughter keep begging me to stop talking. Or wincing. They wince a lot. In fact, Miss Priss said, "Mama, please... don't listen to your iPod."
"Why not?"
"Well, because... you tend to sing when you're listening to it, and while most of the time, that's okay..."
"Yeah?"
"Right now? Not so much." She actually SHUDDERED. "PLEASE, Mom... DON'T SING!!"
*snorts with laughter* I guess that's her way of saying I should rest my throat.
Oh well, I guess I should go get a cuppa, maybe some hot Lemon Zinger tea with plenty of honey. Maybe I'll call someone and try to sing to them. Maybe I'll creep up behind the Impertinent Daughter and croak, "Hey, hey, you, you, I don't like your girlfriend!" in her ear (this is currently her favorite song, and I don't know whether to be dismayed or not), just to watch her wince, wring her hands, and shout, "MOOOOOOM!!!"
*goes off for tea and torture*
After the Husbandly One came back to bed, I gave up and went to sleep in Mr. Manzie's bed. Yeah, I know, I could have just carried him back to bed myself, but you know what? He's 42 pounds when he's awake. When he's asleep, well, for those of you without children, it is a little known fact but, children have this odd capability that can occur when waking or sleeping. They have the ability to increase local gravity so that when you try to pick them up, it becomes virtually impossible! What was once a 42 pound child suddenly turns into a 800 pound mini-gorilla. Add that to the fact that he's completely limp (i.e. Noodle Boy), and you can tack on another 2000 pounds to that total. Plus I'M tired, and now I have the virus... it was just easier to go sleep in his bed!
I now sound like...well, I think I described it to a friend as "Louis Armstrong in Hell." Actually, that was... Saturday. Today, I sound even worse. Squeaks, random croaks... The Husbandly One, and the Impertinent Daughter keep begging me to stop talking. Or wincing. They wince a lot. In fact, Miss Priss said, "Mama, please... don't listen to your iPod."
"Why not?"
"Well, because... you tend to sing when you're listening to it, and while most of the time, that's okay..."
"Yeah?"
"Right now? Not so much." She actually SHUDDERED. "PLEASE, Mom... DON'T SING!!"
*snorts with laughter* I guess that's her way of saying I should rest my throat.
Oh well, I guess I should go get a cuppa, maybe some hot Lemon Zinger tea with plenty of honey. Maybe I'll call someone and try to sing to them. Maybe I'll creep up behind the Impertinent Daughter and croak, "Hey, hey, you, you, I don't like your girlfriend!" in her ear (this is currently her favorite song, and I don't know whether to be dismayed or not), just to watch her wince, wring her hands, and shout, "MOOOOOOM!!!"
*goes off for tea and torture*
