Mr. G has developed a baaaa-ad habit of waking up at 5:30 a.m. I'm simply not ready for him. He's cute and smells good and all, but I need a little "Me Time" first thing in the morning. You know, to pee, brush my teeth, shower, that sort of thing.
Thank God for the faithful services of PBS. I can plug my early-rising-3-year-old-bachelor into thirty or so minutes of commercial-free, educational programming. With no guilt, 'cuz he's learning when he watches Curious George and Clifford. It's Nanny in a Box!
Mr. D dropped by my karate class last night. He's never done that before and I'm not sure if he was genuinely curious to watch me or curious to see if the 2nd degree black belt college boy home for Christmas break was running class. Is this flattering that Mr. D cares? For about 10 seconds. Will Mr. D turn up tonight to watch me test for my blue belt? Stay tuned--and call me "Desdemona." (Handkerchief anyone?)
In other Mr. D news, he keeps adding to his Christmas wish list. Videos, pod-coffee maker, Sudoku book. I've got at least one trip to Best Buy looming in my future. Because I hate to shop, I'm thinking of giving him a few of these:
Mr. T is the perfect present!
But if I break the "No Living Gifts" rule (a rule that excludes bulbs and plants and seeds), I'm wide open for a puppy next year and that's a road we don't care to walk down. So I'm going to Best Buy later this week. With that wretched thought, I'm going to fortify myself with more coffee, run a vacuum (unclogged by Magnetix), and prepare for Mr. B's preschool Christmas concert this afternoon (check camera batteries, sedate Mr. G so he sits still, dress myself in something other than ratty sweats).