Monday, May 16, 2011

Bedtime is the Pits

Since we are a bohemian household with no bedtimes and not much in the way of a schedule, my children are just getting into bed. I'm on the computer...finishing up a syllabus? Okay I'm doing that but also playing on Facebook and looking at real estate I can't afford. And just now Piper flies, a streak of bright, through the hallway sobbing.

"What's going?" I yell.

No answer.

"Umberto! What happened?" I yell again.Piper is sobbing in our bedroom.

"Nothing. I don't know." Umberto yells.

"I"m sick of this!" I moan. "I thought six was going to be an easier age. That it would get easier."

"It will" H mumbles from the chair where he is half asleep.

Umberto comes out and explains to us why Piper is sobbing in our closet.
"She said she smelled something and for some reason thought it was my arm pits. The last time she thought that she tried to put deodorant on me and covered me from here to here (he demonstrates a wide arch going from his armpit over his chest tot his neck and then down to his other armpit). It was gross and I told her to stop it."

H laughs. I say seriously "It's not funny. She can't do that."

H answers "Do what? Drive by deodorants?"

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