This morning I awoke to Golden Boy’s voice complaining about The Bug getting at his stuff. I then became aware that The Bug was flailing about on the bed in an attempt to rummage through an eclectic collection of crap at the edge of the bed. All that was holding her back was my hand around her chubby ankle.
How my hand came to be wrapped around her leg is not clear. Apparently The Woman Who Shall Not Be Disparaged had already deposited The Bug with me on the bed. My brain decided that only my right hand need be awake to supervise. I am comfortable with that decision.
As The Bug’s efforts came to fruition, her food-chuckers clasping onto some random treasure, Golden Boy went all squeally. The noise caused me to raise my head to see if there was in fact a genuine crisis. Of course, there was not. As my head fell back onto my pillow my brain registered that among that pile of Golden Boy’s treasures was my mouse pad. The one that says “Golden Boy’s Daddy” on it. (Not “Golden Boy”!)
Now as I write this post, instead of playing my game, which requires the mouse pad, I have no idea where that mouse pad is and I’m about ready to get all squeally about it.
