Shhhhh....there's a little 2-year-old asleep on my couch. No one wants to wake him...well, except the dog. My dog really wants to wake him up. He can't understand why the person closest to him in size isn't playing with him. The dog just stands there and stares at the couch. He put the ball next to the couch in an attempt to waken the boy. It didn't work. Then the dog stood next to the ball and stared at the boy in an attempt to use his canine vibes to magically stimulate the boy into wakefulness. That didn't work either. So of course the only logical thing left for the dog to do was to begin to groom himself. And I'm being polite here.
So I thought I would just come over here and begin to do some homework...you know...catch up on one of my classes and write some more on a paper that's due at midnight on Saturday. But I can't seem to concentrate. It's like having a picnic on the San Andreas Fault....something could happen anytime. Any squeak, any move, any anything and I jump and run or start and stop. I can't concentrate. I can't do anything. I'm typing this post right now but fortunately, I don't have to look at the keyboard when I type...because I'm staring over the couch as I type this...
Okay....apparently I am a slave to this child. I. am. a. slave. His blue eyes rule me. It's over. Game goes to Boy. Forget about homework. Forget about my term paper. Yeesh....I'm glad the Yankees don't have to face him...
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment