(The picture, by the way, is relevant only in that Max kept saying "Sleep. Sleeping" while he lay on this lounge chair, but he was never actually sleeping. Much like me last night.) Well, it is now 8 something, and I have remorselessly parked Max in front of his new birthday "Bob The Builder" video, where he will remain until I can scrape myself together and prepare breakfast. It might be awhile. (By the way, it just occurred to me -- what if Bob The Builder is actually crazy? What if he thinks that all of his construction equipment can talk and emote, but when he shows up at building sites, everyone else is secretly humoring him while they call the men in the white coats because Bob is the only one there and who is this Scoop he keeps chatting with? I'm really tired.) Last night, the earth tilted on its axis, the clocks began chiming thirteen o' clock, and everything went horribly awry. Admittedly, we kicked off the proceedings by going to bed way too late, and we are adults in our thirties who should know better. We were watching a really good episode of 24, though, and we got started late because Max, whose schedule was off all day yesterday, felt the need to chat about the walls and the ceiling and therefore could not find time in his busy schedule to go to sleep until 11:19.
Once we were finally in bed, we heard people yelling outside. Now, I am a tolerant neighbor, People. We live in an apartment, with a lot of students and young families, and I generally figure that we are at least as annoying as everyone else and should therefore be accepting of the occasional carrying noise. However, these guys spent at least three hours stretching my loving spirit to its breaking point. They swore. They broke things that made tinkling noises. They mocked a dog by riling it up and then imitating its bark. (The dog, contrary to my wishes, did not respond by biting their throats out, at least as far as I could tell.) They laughed heartily over things that were stupid. I would like to formally declare a blood feud.
They may have carried on for longer than three hours, but I lost track of them because Max woke up at 3:34 and requested a transfer to the big bed. He and Maggie then took turns waking up and demanding various forms of assistance until 7:45, when Max got up, chipper as a monkey, and started his day. Maggie is still in bed, sleeping off her long night of nursing every half hour. It tires a baby out, you know.