Mrs. Yoy: (Not) Defying Gravity
We are muddling through Day 4 of Big E's intense fear of ghosts and being left alone.
He's totally cool all afternoon and as soon as the sun sets, he permanently attaches himself to my a**.
Last night we were all piled in Big E's bed reading another great pick about being clairvoyant and the ability to levitate.
So many mundane details about monks from two hundred years ago getting reprimanded for disrupting church because they were floating all over the damn place.
My eyelids were getting heavy. My brain was no longer processing the words I was reading. I was wearing my Sherpa robe and things were getting too warm and cozy for Mrs. Yoy.
And scene.
Just as we reached the chapter on gravity, I fell asleep.
My grasp on the book was released, which I've done many times before, only to drop a four hundred pager on my face.
This time it was a smaller book and it landed, corner first smack in the middle of Little E's lotioned up forehead.
SCREAMS. SCREAMS. SCREAMS.
Big E had just dozed off, too, even he wasn't immune to the snore factor on this book. He popped up in a ghost panic.
But Little E wanted to make sure we all knew he was suffering. At first I thought he was just being extra dramatic. Then I looked at his head. He had a perfect red line equally dividing his forehead.
The irony of it all was not lost on me.
He's totally cool all afternoon and as soon as the sun sets, he permanently attaches himself to my a**.
Last night we were all piled in Big E's bed reading another great pick about being clairvoyant and the ability to levitate.
So many mundane details about monks from two hundred years ago getting reprimanded for disrupting church because they were floating all over the damn place.
My eyelids were getting heavy. My brain was no longer processing the words I was reading. I was wearing my Sherpa robe and things were getting too warm and cozy for Mrs. Yoy.
And scene.
Just as we reached the chapter on gravity, I fell asleep.
My grasp on the book was released, which I've done many times before, only to drop a four hundred pager on my face.
This time it was a smaller book and it landed, corner first smack in the middle of Little E's lotioned up forehead.
SCREAMS. SCREAMS. SCREAMS.
Big E had just dozed off, too, even he wasn't immune to the snore factor on this book. He popped up in a ghost panic.
But Little E wanted to make sure we all knew he was suffering. At first I thought he was just being extra dramatic. Then I looked at his head. He had a perfect red line equally dividing his forehead.
The irony of it all was not lost on me.
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