Rush Limbaugh has his . . . well, here is mine. This is my record of news stories and issues that interest me. You can also find more headlines at the site where I serve as editor: The Common Voice.

Monday, September 26, 2005

Mr. Sandman

Tonight, the redhead was at play practice. She will appear in a November production of King Lear. The cast is in the middle of blocking the scenes, so the rehearsals can last some time.

I took the kids to McDonalds and then brought them home to watch a DVD. Tonight's offering was Disney's The Love Bug. It was a nice change of pace for the guys who watched The Sound of Music with their sister the last time we let them watch a movie.

This put it a little past their bed time when I finally got them settled down for sleeping. That is when everything went crazy!

Once they climbed in bed, I went to straightened up the den. No sooner had I started than my middle child came into the room. "You are supposed to be in bed, young man," I said (knowing that this one tries to find all kinds of reasons to get out of the bed). "I have sand in my pants," he replied. "Well, take them off and brush them out." Obediently, he sat down and brushed out the inside of his pants. Off he went to bed.

That wasn't the end...

Once again I heard a wail from the bed room. I walked in. "I have sand in my bed!" child two whimpered. I just knew he was complaining about a tiny grain of sand. "Well, wipe it off and go to sleep." He started to feverishly brush his bed and I turned off the light. "I STILL have sand in my bed!" came the now frustrated voice from the room.

I went in to see for myself. Sure enough, there was sand on the bed. I told him, "Get out of bed and let me do it." Brush, brush, brush... "There, now there is no sand on the bed." Back in he went. "There IS sand!" "There CAN'T be sand," I said now getting frustrated. "I just wiped it all off myself!"

Sure enough, there was sand - loads of sand. It seemed everywhere he went there was sand. Finally, he stood still on top of the hope chest in the kids' room. There below him was a pile of sand! "How on earth!?!" I exclaimed. Then child one spoke up. "His pull-up is leaking." I looked closely. Sure enough, the filler inside child two's pull-up was just finishing pouring out onto the hope chest!

I never knew that the absorbant material inside of pull-ups was just like small granuals of sand. I'm glad that we figured that out. I thought for sure I was losing my mind! We changed out the pull up and finally got child three to settle down by turning on the classical piano CD.

Good night, Mr. Sandman.


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