come back later?

i do have things i'd like chat with you about before the weekend, and i'm planning on heading back here later. if you have a minute, want to come back, too? say yes...

i'll tell you one little quick bit of nonsense now, if you'd like.

last night, i was trying to have a conversation with uncle sugar. in bed. and i tell you that not so you think oooh! but so you remember that i am a co-sleeper sort of parent, apparently. by order of the management. whose name is esmé dahlia.

{it is at this point when it would be completely apropos to clench your fist and hissper esmé in a drat-her! villain voice.}

so. uncle sugar would say something like do you think we should try to go to montauk tuesday? stay until thursday night?

i replied totally. but i don't think uncle sugar heard me. because esmé is a loud bed-talker.

i don't think so. she offered.

we ignored.

oh! i remembered. do you have any cash?

no. sorry. i don't.

which would be odd if that was uncle sugar's response, because that boy always has cash. i think it came with his nickname. however, it was esmé who answered. she's always broke.

this went on and on for as long as we could stand it. like, two more questions answered by her. which may have been fine if she'd...i don't know...been more agreeable? more helpful?

we both lost it. he yelled can i PLEASE HAVE A CONVERSATION WITH MY WIFE? at about the same time i yelled almost the same thing. which may have sounded to the neighbors like esmé! you are KILLING ME!

this offended her. she folded her arms and closed her eyes. her always-grinny mouth went all straight-lined. and i saw it quiver.

ugh.

esmé...i'm sorry...it's just that your dad and i...

at this, she covered my mouth with one very sticky hand.

quiet, mom...go to sleep now...it's the witching hour.

they should be here by noon to stamp my mother-of-the-year i.d. card with a giant revoked. and while i'm sort of joking, i do have this thing about not going to bed sad. i've always told the girlies three that they need to smile right before they fall asleep. no matter their mood at the time. a smile scares away nightmares. i'm pretty sure the three of us IN. THAT. ONE. BED. all had bad dreams. anyway. i will fix that. until then, look at little wing's photos. i found them on need supply's brilliant blog, but i think i remember seeing her on creature comforts ages ago. i could be wrong. but get this: she's seventeen.