On Valentine's Day, much is written about spouses and sig oths and such, but I have been remiss. I forgot to thank my boys, whose current quirks provide an essential zen calm that takes the edge off the day.
First there's TwoBert, who has developed from a casual crawler to a full-throttle skitterbug. But thumping around on all fours is hard work, so when he takes a break he swivels into a resting pose that's two parts breakin' and poppin' and one part come hither. (Yes, it took me several minutes of Googling before the right search phrase led me to those linked images; it should make for some interesting testimony when the Ministry of Information subpoenas my search records.) I like to watch TwoBert while he sits and contemplates his next move, before he swivels into Rover Mode and heads off to gnaw on the Lincoln Logs.
Then there's Robert, who lately likes to go to sleep with a lamp on. This means that every night, before I go in to switch it off, I get to play Guess The Sleeping Position. Robert's a fitful sleeper, and the odds of finding him parallel with his bed and under the covers are less than even money. Sometimes he rotates head-to-toe and faceplants into a book (the "Reversi"). Sometimes he rolls himself into a ball with his ass in the air (the "Snail"). Sometimes he pulls his bed away from the wall and sleeps in the crawl space (the Stealth Bomber "Gondorff"). The other night I sat for about 5 minutes while he lay perpendicular on his back, head hanging over the edge, mouth agape, dead to the world.
Still working on a name for that one.
