Because life is so much more interesting when there are plot twists, the entire crew decided to be sick over the weekend, and Jack's cutting a tooth or two. How mundane would having an enjoyable weekend have been? Exactly. It was better this way. H.M. and I sat our sickly butts in front of the enjoyable little flick, Elizabethtown. Orlando, Kirsten, a dead guy, that dude from MacGyver, and a truly memorable soundtrack... Me likey. Wifey likey too. Why am I talking like this? Me idiot. Anyway, I'm startled how Tom Petty's It'll All Work Out sounds in it. You don't care. You wanna hear about Jack. Got it.
I Looked to the Children
And saw him pushing a toppled barstool back and forth across the house. In Parisian society, they say, it once was common (probably still is) to sit at a café and just watch people go by for the sake of entertainment. And as you were destroying your crêpes au Grand Marnier and a half bottle of fizzy water, you'd wonder about whoever strolled by. What they were doing, where they were going, and why. I ponder that as Jack traffic jams the other barstool against the first one behind the couch. And while he makes these Herculean sounds, turning red, as he tries to lift one like a wheelbarrow.
As for the other chilrun, it was only going to be for an hour. We left the (daft) First Mate in the backyard, and returned to see the silliest English Setter in the galaxy, soaked, her speckled hide caked in mud. What's that one about not being able to come in from the rain? This dog makes the use of a thesaurus necessary to help describe her...*turning pages*... puerility. Yeah, puerility. For more detailed descriptions of my animal, see this.
There's More Than One Answer to These Questions
OK, we need help. No, not like that. OK, maybe like that, too... OK, focus, alright? Focus. We, the party of the first part (that's us), solicit you, (that's you) the party of the second part (you again), to help us with SLEEP.
How do you get your kiddos to sleep? Jack's sleep patterns are so erratic that he could be a member of The Ramones. Doesn't nap, naps at different times, won't go to sleep at night, wants to party with room service at 3-5am, you name it. It's killing Her Majesty, which transitively is killing me.
So let's have it. All the books say the same stuff. Fine. But I'm looking for non-expert practical advice that doesn't include Baby Benadryl and a lava lamp. LURKERS AWAKE! YOUR CAPTAIN ADJURES YOU. SERIOUSLY.
Oh, go check the new pic album out too, ye dogs.