It's 3 in the morning and I'm sleeping with the kid on the couch. The kid's been having some sleeping problems as of late, but we've sworn off bringing him back to bed with us. Does it make a difference that we're on the couch and not in bed? I'm not sure, but I tell myself it's the principle of the thing.
But anyways, it's 3 am, and I'm woken up by the sound of Carol's office TV. I get up to go check, and the TV has just decided to turn on, on its own.
So I turn it off, and go back to the couch, but can't fall back asleep. All I can hear is rhythmic creaking, which reminds me of the Grudge. And of course, trying NOT to think about the Grudge, only makes you think about the Grudge more.
Experiment: DON'T think about purple polka-dotted hippos. See? It's like our brains are actually temperamental 3 year olds.
So I huddle up against my little 16 month old for protection and moral support. And I feel conflicted. I remember how big and strong and fearless my dad always seemed to me. I've got to learn to put on a better front. Because no one can be *that* fearless, right?
And then I look down at my precious boy and imagine that if his eyes sprang open at that minute, and he meowed, I would absolutely crap my pants.
I have a lot of work ahead me, if I want to seem fearless.