THE VERY DEFINITION OF "INSANITY"
Jennie says that I don't spend enough time on this blog talking about my children, so here's a little something to help rectify that oversight, and to help me talk my way out of the trauma of moving our youngest from his cot to a fully fledged bed.
My favourite definition of insanity is "Repetition of the same action despite assured failure." Last night that definition would have been a perfect representation of the chore of putting Oscar to bed. In fact, let's have a blow by blow repeat of the whole, "Putting Oscar to bed" saga. It goes something like this...
Put Oscar to Bed. Put Oscar to Bed. Put Oscar to Bed. Put Oscar to Bed. Put Oscar to Bed. Put Oscar to Bed. Put Oscar to Bed. Put Oscar to Bed. Put Oscar to Bed. Put Oscar to Bed. Put Oscar to Bed. Put Oscar to Bed. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. Put Oscar to Bed. Put Oscar to Bed. Put Oscar to Bed. Put Oscar to Bed. Put Oscar to Bed. Put Oscar to Bed. Put Oscar to Bed. Put Oscar to Bed. Put Oscar to Bed. Drink a beer. Put Oscar to Bed. Put Oscar to Bed. Put Oscar to Bed. Put Oscar to Bed. Put Oscar to Bed. Put Oscar to Bed. Put Oscar to Bed. Put Oscar to Bed. Put Oscar to Bed. Drink another beer. Put Oscar to Bed. Put Oscar to Bed. Put Oscar to Bed. Put Oscar to Bed. Put Oscar to Bed. Put Oscar to Bed. Put Oscar to Bed.
And so on. After a while it got to be quite the chore. Of course by the time that it became quite the chore it was 11:00 pm and it was time for the parents of the household to go to bed. In hindsight perhaps I should have given the beer to the two year old, or done something less painful to myself to help break the monotony of the evening - Like hit the recently injured big toe on my right foot with a hammer or something.
AND NOW, THE TRIUMPH OF GOOD OVER EVIL!
Tonight was a different story. It only took somewhere between 6 and 8 attempts to get that little shi ... Errr, little bundle of sunny faced joy ... to stay in his bed and go to sleep. All things being equal however it could be that he was extremely tired from the night before, and is therefore saving the Next Big Thing for tomorrow night. Ah, the joys of Monday! Just in case they weren't miserable enough, Boo can make them so much worse. In the words of Michael Garibaldi, "I'd rather have my gums extracted."
POSTSCRIPT TO LAST MONDAY
I have this nagging suspicion that, in my misadventure in zealous customer service, I may have broken a rib. I'll let you know how it turns out, and how much my colleagues and family laugh at me should my suspicions be confirmed...
----------------
Now playing: Within Temptation - Forsaken
via FoxyTunes
Jennie says that I don't spend enough time on this blog talking about my children, so here's a little something to help rectify that oversight, and to help me talk my way out of the trauma of moving our youngest from his cot to a fully fledged bed.
My favourite definition of insanity is "Repetition of the same action despite assured failure." Last night that definition would have been a perfect representation of the chore of putting Oscar to bed. In fact, let's have a blow by blow repeat of the whole, "Putting Oscar to bed" saga. It goes something like this...
Put Oscar to Bed. Put Oscar to Bed. Put Oscar to Bed. Put Oscar to Bed. Put Oscar to Bed. Put Oscar to Bed. Put Oscar to Bed. Put Oscar to Bed. Put Oscar to Bed. Put Oscar to Bed. Put Oscar to Bed. Put Oscar to Bed. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. Put Oscar to Bed. Put Oscar to Bed. Put Oscar to Bed. Put Oscar to Bed. Put Oscar to Bed. Put Oscar to Bed. Put Oscar to Bed. Put Oscar to Bed. Put Oscar to Bed. Drink a beer. Put Oscar to Bed. Put Oscar to Bed. Put Oscar to Bed. Put Oscar to Bed. Put Oscar to Bed. Put Oscar to Bed. Put Oscar to Bed. Put Oscar to Bed. Put Oscar to Bed. Drink another beer. Put Oscar to Bed. Put Oscar to Bed. Put Oscar to Bed. Put Oscar to Bed. Put Oscar to Bed. Put Oscar to Bed. Put Oscar to Bed.
And so on. After a while it got to be quite the chore. Of course by the time that it became quite the chore it was 11:00 pm and it was time for the parents of the household to go to bed. In hindsight perhaps I should have given the beer to the two year old, or done something less painful to myself to help break the monotony of the evening - Like hit the recently injured big toe on my right foot with a hammer or something.
AND NOW, THE TRIUMPH OF GOOD OVER EVIL!
Tonight was a different story. It only took somewhere between 6 and 8 attempts to get that little shi ... Errr, little bundle of sunny faced joy ... to stay in his bed and go to sleep. All things being equal however it could be that he was extremely tired from the night before, and is therefore saving the Next Big Thing for tomorrow night. Ah, the joys of Monday! Just in case they weren't miserable enough, Boo can make them so much worse. In the words of Michael Garibaldi, "I'd rather have my gums extracted."
POSTSCRIPT TO LAST MONDAY
I have this nagging suspicion that, in my misadventure in zealous customer service, I may have broken a rib. I'll let you know how it turns out, and how much my colleagues and family laugh at me should my suspicions be confirmed...
----------------
Now playing: Within Temptation - Forsaken
via FoxyTunes
3 comments:
So did you survive Fathers Day?
Steve didn't get his present until dinner time when he finally asked if Tom was going to hand it over. The card was a bit of a classic it reads
"HAPPY FATHER'S DAY...
... TO A DAD WHO'S ALWAYS BEEN THE KIND OF GUY TO GIVE HIS KIDS THE MOON AND THE STARS..."
and on the inside Tom writes
"Dear Steve"
and the card continues
"...AND OF COURSE, SOMETHING FROM URANUS!
(pic of farting dog here)
HAPPY FATHER'S DAY!"
and Tom writes
"I hope you have
from Thomas"
We are not sure what Tom hopes Steve has..
Hellooo.... is there anybody out there?
No. I'm the server-side scripting package that parses your comment, approves it and responds thusly.
The regular author will post again once he's able to pass his Turing Test.
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