Day 674: Of Bedtime Woes, Purple Crayons and Odd Sleeping Arrangments

It has been over half a month – seventeen days – since my last entry – roughly two and a half weeks of tribal insanity.  I could not begin to describe every event, every detail that has occurred in the tribe of late, for, I believe my mind was lost a week and half ago, never to be seen again.  Instead, I will touch on the highlights, or rather in some cases, the lowlights, of the activities of the natives and the tribe.

The natives have been busy, as per usual, sometimes causing hate and discontent amongst themselves and other times plotting – scheming – TOGETHER against the tribal leader and myself.  I have to admit that the moments when the natives are interacting without conflict are the most enjoyable and interesting to watch; however, they are also the most dangerous for in those moments information – intel if you will – is being passed from the elder native to the younger – critical notes about how to properly scale objects, demonstrate exemplary form when escaping the confines of their resting chambers, and singing – oh, the singing – alphabet, numbers, Row, Row, Row Your Fucking Boat, Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star and where would we be without the timeless fucking hit Jingle Bells.  Three.  Months. After. Christmas.

Some days, the singing is tolerable – as tolerable as several hours of being waterboarded.  The singing, most days however, could be considered an effective form of torture.  After the tenth round of Jingle Bells inside of five minutes and I would be ready to spill my guts to anyone.  However, of late, this has been the least of my worries, which leads me to the Purple Crayon Caper.

The Purple Crayon Caper occurred at least a week ago, perhaps even ten days.  The crime went down thus:  Tuesday, being skilled in the ways of art making and art media use, has been making prolific use of her days by creating masterpieces that are impressive for natives her age.  Seen below are some primitive drawings by her that delineate, and I do mean delineate because they are stick figures, the tribe including myself and some of the wildlife.  Also depicted is a sun featuring a smile, perhaps as Tuesday pictured it in her mind’s eye.  As I said – impressive work for a three and a half-year old.

600233_10151549393001142_1894795750_nI commended the native for her work – and documented the occasion.  Apparently, the commendation went to her head because she went on to discover how crayon works with other substrate – namely the tribe’s new, well, not new but new to the tribe, 32″ flat screen electronic media box.  Purple crayon.  Wide, sweeping circles.  All. Over. The. Screen.

I have to admit that I did not notice this crime until well after it was committed – for I only noticed because I was assisting the natives (Ok, well not assisting, more like orchestrating, directing, doing it myself, etc.) in picking up the tribal living area.  Tuesday had smuggled the offending instruments into the tribal living area and whilst I slaved away in the food preparation area, she quickly vandalized the electronic media box and got away with the crime and the crayon.  So she thought.

Upon seeing the vandalism, I quickly and sternly reprimanded the native and quickly began seeking a cleaning agent and a cloth to hopefully fix the mess.  Luckily, it cleaned easy.  Good thing.

Following the Purple Crayon Caper, Tuesday lost the use of her art media for, as I’ve said, over a week.  They were returned to her this evening.  For the time being.

During this whole time since last I posted, the tribe has been experiencing a plague of sorts which has all be dissipated from the inhabitants of the tribal abode.  During this time also, Wednesday celebrated a life milestone in the form of the second anniversary of her birthday.  This was met with festive baked goods, gifts for the young native and a gathering of friends and family.

Since I am on the topic of Wednesday, I would like to note her recent sleeping habits – and by sleeping habits I mean random napping locations.  You see, Wednesday is in the process of abandoning rest periods during the day – however, the native is just fond enough of these naps that she doesn’t quite have the juice to keep going through the day without them.  So, on any given day, she’ll be found, exactly where she drops – in a chair, on the floor in a pile of stuffed toys – wait, what?  Yes.  A pile of stuffed toys.  It’s apparently a really comfortable napping location.  So comfortable in fact, she slept for two hours.  She is pictured below curled up in a pose that most contortionists would cringe at.  And, she sleeps.   Good thing to because she’s a miserable wretch otherwise.

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Even this evening, bedtime woes were abound – both natives were beyond tired – both natives napped earlier today – however, both natives needed to go to bed, not just for their own sake, but for the tribal leader and myself as well.  After tucking them in, the bedtime woes began.  Lamentations.  Several rounds of the fucking alphabet.  And Row, Row, Row Your Boat.  And then, they appeared.

Wednesday: “I hungy. I hungy.”

Apparently, the natives, at the ripe old age of two and three and a half, have learned the fine art of emotional blackmail through professing their hunger.  However, we, the tribal leader and I, know better.

Tribal Leader: “You’re only hungry because you don’t want to go to bed.”

True story – these natives have been eating like cows – grazing throughout the day.  I’ve seen what they’ve eaten.  The should not be hungry.

Wednesday: “I hungy. I want cookie.”

And the truth shall set you free.  Wednesday is a cookie lobbyist.  Actually, she’s a food lobbyist, it doesn’t really matter what kind or type.

Me: “You’re not getting cookies.”

Wednesday: “Ohhhhhh…”  I could feel the disappointment in her voice.  Life is tough, kid.

Yeah.  Go ahead.  Whine. Curl that lip under so that is swallows your chin.  I dare you.

Me:  “If you’re hungry, you can have some dry cereal.”

Wednesday: “Ok.”  She immediately comes and grabs the bowl and starts eating.  Apparently she was hungry.  Guilt starts setting in…

She did continue her cookie lobbying a few more times and suddenly we began to hear her elder sibling’s voice from afar announcing that she would like cookies too.  What the fuck is it with cookies tonight? We informed her that no one was getting cookies and told her to go to sleep.

Soon, both natives were in the food preparation area, lamenting that they could not sleep as they were not ready to go to bed.  Tough luck.  Both natives received an armed escort back to the resting chambers and were tucked in, yet again, and admonished to go to sleep.

This was followed by more torturous singing of the alphabet, Row, Row, Row Your Fucking Boat and more selected hits.  Tuesday began shouting loudly for my presence and I spoke to them over the two-way monitor informing them that they needed to stop the incessant singing, counting, yelling, talking and go to sleep.  Suddenly, there were those fucking crickets.  The talking went on a bit longer about birthdays and Tuesday demanding that Wednesday stop singing.  Good.  Glad I’m not the only one.  Then, all was quiet.

There has been much more fun and excitement at the tribe in the past two weeks, but as I’ve said, I lost my mind about a week ago.  You’ll just have to enjoy the tales I’ve told and await the next post for more adventures in parenthood.

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