Another mundane day with The Governor, The Senator and Hoocher. It was rack-in time, with the boys sleeping until nearly 9:30 a.m. No, it’s entirely untrue that our Thursday night bedtime snack was a brandy Alexander.
The baby-gate goes up Friday night to keep Hoocher from his nocturnal leaps onto the bed. Small dogs are okay atop the mattress, because they take up no more room than an errant sock. Hoocher’s more like a sack of cement, in size and weight, if not shape. Once on a bed, he’s a lump of static energy that only turns kinetic when he’s pulled to the edge and his equilibrium shifts toward a fall onto the floor.
The Green Goddess took The Senator to a move Friday evening while I pulled custodial charge of The Governor at Linnhurst Park again. We lucked out, the rain stopped just in time for him to play there. This kid loves to swing … higher … and higher … and higher. He’s thrilled when the swing is pushed so hard there’s some sideways torque as well an arc that approaches parallel to the ground. It’s a whee to be the source of this locomotion, but it a tiring task after about half an hour.
The Governor didn’t have much use for supper—after inhaling half a stack of Oreo cookies coming home from the park. At dinner, he ate the meat out of a corn dog, and wouldn’t try fried rice we brought home, although The Senator was happy to eat some.
Lights out came at 9:15 p.m., with the Governor protesting, “Bedtime is boring.” It was a two-book night to get him into a somnolent state, but he was awake when The Senator came to bed at 10 p.m. “Guys,” The Governor noted, “Hoocher is on the bed.” Not for long, though. The brothers talked for a while, which was kind of nice to hear.
Brandy milk punch works better.
Posted by: aelfheld at June 11, 2005 12:18 PM