Monday, November 19, 2007

And Mr. G makes 3

My older 2 sons share a room, it's a HUGE bedroom, larger than mine and Mr. D's, and in that room are bunk beds and a double bed. The youngest has what we've referred to as "the nursery" since we built the house--it's where we've always put the baby to sleep. Well, baby is 3 and in a twin bed as of September. I probably should give the "nursery" to my oldest but I like the status quo. You see, Mr. T and Mr. B are just like Sesame Street's Bert and Ernie and I hate to split up the team.

1) Mr. T sleeps like a dead man. Mr. B is a night owl, bopping around the room until 10 some nights. Much like Ernie, there are songs and loud noises, but unlike Bert, Mr. T ignores it and sleeps through. If he could, Mr. B would happily invite an elephant and five vikings into his room at night to serenade his roommate.
2) Mr. T (Bert) is uptight and edgy. Mr. B (Ernie) is a spontaneous slob. Yet they co-exist in an organized mess.
3) Mr. B has a HUGE round head like the Muppet Ernie. Mr. T's head is more oval shaped like Bert's.
4) Mr. T has many collections. Not bottle tops and pet pigeons, but rocks and stamps and
"Scientific Experiments."
5) Mr. B has a really silly giggle and is always smiling and causing trouble.

And frankly, I believe it builds character to share a room, so we should maximize this opportunity until Mr. T begins objecting--and so far he hasn't.

So last night I got all 3 bachelors down without a hitch and Mr. D (back from the woods without a deer) and I enjoyed some quiet time reading and playing cribbage. I thought I heard the drumming of footsteps but ignored it, assuming it was a bathroom thing.

This morning Team Testosterone thudded down the steps for breakfast, all grins and mischief.

Mr. B: "Mr. G slept in our room last night."

Me: "He did?"

Mr. G: "Uh huh."

Me: "Really. Mr. T, did Mr. G really sleep in your room last night?" (Mr. T is honest to a fault)

Mr. T: "Yeah."

Me: "Where?"

Mr. T: "In the other bed."

Mr. B: "I think Mr. G should move in with us."

Me: "I'll think about it."

Ernie and Bert with another roommate??? Elmo? My perfect Sesame Street world upstairs is getting all scrambled up and I'm not so sure I like it. If Elmo moves in, will Ernie and Bert grow apart? I'm not ready for that. I'm clinging to my children's childhood with both fists as it is and this change means someone grows up a little. I'm being irrational, but I need Ernie and Bert to only room with each other and just hang out with Elmo during the daytime hours.

In unrelated news, I finished Augusten Burrough's Magical Thinking and give it 2 thumbs up. I couldn't stomach Running with Scissors because I've learned that once something gets in my head, I can't get it out and I need to be my own censor so I only read the first chapter. And by chapter 4 the circus book that everyone's reading is living up to the buzz.

On the Thanksgiving front I was told by my mother-in-law that I don't need to bring anything this year. Never mind that I am an amazing baker. She'll make pumpkin pies from a can and crusts found in a freezer case at the grocery store. Her brother will bring apple pies from that crappy-assed bakery in Cedar Rapids. And instead of green bean casserole this year we'll have corn! (Yes, you may recall that I don't believe this is a vegetable). I know my mother-in-law thinks she's being helpful telling me not to bring anything. I protested saying, "I'll bring some fresh veg. to snack on--pea pods, baby carrots, that sort of thing. I'm packing it anyway for us to eat in the car because otherwise the kids get sick if they just eat crap all weekend." At that point I realized that my foot was lodged in my mouth up to my ankle. "Um, let me get Mr. D for you--he'd love to talk to you."


  1. I feel your pain. God love my mother-in-law but she think's orange soda is a fruit. Pack vegetables. Lots and lots of vegetables.

  2. I think it's sweet the boys want their younger brother to share their room with then.


Spill it, reader.