Our bedroom is either really hot or really cold. It all depends on when the furnace fires up. Last night around 3:00am I woke up and was soaked from the waist up.
I thought to myself- "WOW! It must've really gotten warm in here". I sat up in bed and realized that only one side of my shirt was wet.
It was then that I noticed that our four-year old was asleep in the middle of the bed. It didn't take much to deduce that my shirt was not soaked in sweat.
I don't remember ever being a bed-wetter. It must come from her mom's side of the family. Doesn't mean I didn't- it just means I don't remember. Kinda like I don't remember ever having eye-brows I don't need to trim weekly because of the stray mutant hairs that are the result of age. I know I didn't always have to trim them but I don't remember when that was.
Don't get me wrong. I love my little one. I know she didn't mean to leave a puddle on the temperpedic, and I know that gravity caused the majority of her waste-water to run its course toward me and soak my night shirt. But- at 3:00am as I progressed to the sofa to continue my slumber (ironically both her and her mommy slept through the release of the Hoover Dam) all I could think of is how I'll exact my revenge.
It may be 40 years from now as I approach 90 and no longer have control of my own functions. I hope it will be in her car with the really nice Napa leather seats. I hope it will be a very hot day. It doesn't matter because I will get my sweet revenge. Just like I will exact payback from my oldest daughter for telling a cute college girl when she was a toddler that "Daddy had a boil on his hiney and had to go to the hospital". I hope she doesn't plan on introducing me to a boyfriend anytime soon.
Those moments of joy and pride with your children are awesome. But the plotting and scheming of their eventual embarrassment is beyond happiness. Is that wrong?
I thought to myself- "WOW! It must've really gotten warm in here". I sat up in bed and realized that only one side of my shirt was wet.
It was then that I noticed that our four-year old was asleep in the middle of the bed. It didn't take much to deduce that my shirt was not soaked in sweat.
I don't remember ever being a bed-wetter. It must come from her mom's side of the family. Doesn't mean I didn't- it just means I don't remember. Kinda like I don't remember ever having eye-brows I don't need to trim weekly because of the stray mutant hairs that are the result of age. I know I didn't always have to trim them but I don't remember when that was.
Don't get me wrong. I love my little one. I know she didn't mean to leave a puddle on the temperpedic, and I know that gravity caused the majority of her waste-water to run its course toward me and soak my night shirt. But- at 3:00am as I progressed to the sofa to continue my slumber (ironically both her and her mommy slept through the release of the Hoover Dam) all I could think of is how I'll exact my revenge.
It may be 40 years from now as I approach 90 and no longer have control of my own functions. I hope it will be in her car with the really nice Napa leather seats. I hope it will be a very hot day. It doesn't matter because I will get my sweet revenge. Just like I will exact payback from my oldest daughter for telling a cute college girl when she was a toddler that "Daddy had a boil on his hiney and had to go to the hospital". I hope she doesn't plan on introducing me to a boyfriend anytime soon.
Those moments of joy and pride with your children are awesome. But the plotting and scheming of their eventual embarrassment is beyond happiness. Is that wrong?
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