Just some bits and pieces from last night…

It’s Hard to Stay Grounded
An exchange with Doodlebug, 40 minutes after the prerequisite hugging & kissing & tucking into bed:

Me (calling down the short hall from the living room to his bedroom): I can still hear you up. It’s go-to-sleep time not re-enact-Star-Wars time. Go. To. Sleep.
Doodle: Okay.
Me: And close your door. We don’t need to hear your stereo.
Doodle: I’m not listening to it tonight.
Me (thinking, Okay, that’s odd): Oh? Why not?
Doodle: I’m grounding myself from it.
Me: Really? What for?
Doodle: Welllllll… my room’s not clean so I need to be grounded. I’ll clean my room tomorrow and then I can listen to my stereo again.
Me: Oh. Okay. You’re grounded from your stereo until your room is clean. Got it.
Me (to Mr. Clean): He just grounded himself. We have really strange spawn. Responsible… but strange.
Mr. Clean: Must be another genetic gift from your side of the family.

A few minutes later…

Doodle: Mom, I don’t like to be grounded from my stereo any more. I changed my mind. I’ll be grounded tomorrow instead. After I clean my room. It’s really not that bad anyhow. (note: It looks like the FBI came to his room with a search warrant)
Doodle’s Room: [soft sounds of Ray Charles floating down the hallway to us, from the open bedroom door]
Mr. Clean: See? Told you. Genetic gift.

Late Night Reading
Mr. Clean is watching 24. I’m semi-watching and, at the same time, reading Children of the Lamp: The Blue Djinn of Babylon by P.B. Kerr.

Me (laughing): This guy is funny.
Mr. Clean: Who?
Me: The author.
Mr. Clean: How so? Tell me fast, before the commercial is over.
Me: I bet I know what music he listens to while he writes. He named this chapter, ‘The Lunatic is on the Grass’.
Mr. Clean: [crickets chirping]
Me: You know… Pink Floyd? Dark Side of the Moon?
Mr. Clean: Ohh… yeah. That’s funny.
Mr. Clean (a moment later): Why is that funny?
Me: It’s a children’s book. I doubt many kids will get the reference.
Mr. Clean: [crickets chirping – once again engrossed in the show]

A few minutes later…

Me: [laughing]
Mr. Clean: What now?
Me: The author.
Mr. Clean (making a testy face): [crickets chirping]
Me: He’s from Scotland and lives in London.
Mr. Clean: SO?
Me: He just compared an underground cavern in Babylon to Mammoth Cave in Kentucky. (Mr. Clean is from Kentucky and we go to Mammoth Cave every time we visit the state)
Mr. Clean: Oh. Ha. Ha. Are you going to keep doing this the whole show?
Me: [sticking out my tongue]

A few minutes later…

Me: Oh! The lunatic is the king!
Mr. Clean (groaning): Who?
Me: I don’t know. I can’t grasp the name. It’s spelled. N-e-b-u-c-h-a-d-n-e-e-z-a-r.
Mr. Clean: Neb-uh-ka-neezer. You know… King of Babylon. Geez. I thought You were the literary one.
Me: [crickets chirping]
Me: My brain is dying. I have proof now.
Mr. Clean (during the next commercial break): I have no clue how I knew that… it just came to me. Maybe your brain matter is transferring to me at night. You should stop snoring and fix that.
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