Not in the clamor of the crowded street, not in the shouts and plaudits of the throng, but in ourselves, are triumph and defeat.--Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
REDIRECT ALERT! (Scroll down past this mess if you're trying to read an archived post. Thanks. No, really, thanks.)
Due to my inability to control my temper and complacently accept continued silliness with not-quite-as-reliable-as-it-ought-to-be Blogger/Blogspot, your beloved Possumblog will now waddle across the Information Dirt Road and park its prehensile tail at http://possumblog.mu.nu.
This site will remain in place as a backup in case Munuvia gets hit by a bus or something, but I don't think they have as much trouble with this as some places do. ::cough::blogspot::cough:: So click here and adjust your links. I apologize for the inconvenience, but it's one of those things.
Tuesday, March 22, 2005
"I'm a tight sleeper."
Not me. Someone else in the house came up with that one.
Several weeks ago, Reba got a couple of cheap digital travel alarms due to a request by Middle Girl to have something to keep track of time in the mornings. She has an odd, peculiar habit of waking up, doing a few things, grabbing a Barbie doll, and then engaging in a thirty-minute dialogue. Sometimes silently, with only her lips moving, other times rather animated. Neither instance is good for getting dressed and ready to head out the door, however, and has led to several instances of flaring parental temper.
Which is a bad thing.
Anyway, she told Reba that maybe if she had an alarm clock in her room she could see what time it was and be reminded to get her butt in gear, and likewise if there was one in the bathroom. Apparently, it isn't quite enough to have a large bellowing man come by every five minutes with a perturbed accounting of exactly how much time is left before everyone must be boarded onto the shuttlecraft.
So, Sunday night we made ready the clocks and put them in their assigned spots. Even though this week they're out for spring break, SOMEone wanted to get used to having them to help her in her dressing duties.
Monday morning, up and awake right on time, although she still has some work to do on the other required chores associated with dressing, such as taking off her nightgown and putting on clothes.
BUT, there is another person in the room as well--a tiny girl who was fascinated by the new clock plaything, and was itching to be alarmed awake just like her big sister. Alas, she had to be roused by the big loud man instead, because she slept through the electronic beepery of the clock.
She stumbled to the bathroom and then on to flop onto our bed, where she told me that she was very sad that she did not hear the clock when it went off because she wanted to hear it and get up and get dressed but she didn't and she was mad and she wanted to hear it wake her up but she couldn't because she was such a tight sleeper that nothing woke her up and...
"Whoa--you're a what?"
"I'm a very tight sleeper. I can't hear stuff wake me up even if it's loud."
"Ahh." I finished knotting my tie, "And this, I suppose, is the opposite of being a light sleeper, where even the quietest peep makes you wake up?"
"Well, you're in very good company," I said, as Mom rolled over in the bed and gave Cat a groggy hug.
I think someone else could use an alarm clock, too.
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