Let me serenade you or the joys of simmering penises

Is it just me are those days between Christmas and New Year’s Eve kind of a downer? It reminds me of a balloon that has been lying around for awhile that is kind of deflated and wrinkly and ugly. It’s like all the post-holiday excitement followed by “back to normal” makes for bipolar disorder whether you like it or not.

Anyhoo, in true back to normalness, D. Sr. headed back to work today before any of us were awake. D. Jr. woke up the second D. Sr. shut the door on his way out, so I brought him into bed with me to “cuddle” (this entails singing, tickling, various wrestling-like attacks, me being driven on with an assortment of toy vehicles and me having a flashlight shone in my face while we hide from an assortment of imaginary creatures under the blankets). While all this cuddling was going on, D. Jr. decided to sing me his new favourite song, taught to him by the daycare staff, “Skinnamarink.”

D. Jr.: I love you so much.

Momily: I love you, too.

D. Jr.: Simmery, simmery dink, simmery {mumbling} I love you! I love you in the morning and in my bad dream, too. I love you under the cow and moon.

Isn’t it nice to be loved? My serenade made me feel a lot better about the fact that we have absolutely no options for New Year’s Eve that don’t require us to be home by 10:30pm.