Wednesday, July 23, 2014


What wouldn't I give to know what Kamal dreams about? He just now woke up halfway and sat straight up in bed. Eyes still shut, he pointed an imperious, chubby finger around the room, babbling incoherent but definitely entitled-sounding orders at an invisible legion of followers.
Last night, he sat up and hollered something into the dark while Adam and I were still up chatting at the dining table. We both held our breath, waiting to see if he'd go back to sleep. When he did, Adam whispered, "Did he say something about mimosas?" and I whispered back "I'm pretty sure he said, 'Mama se mama sa mama ku sa." Given that Kamal's been exposed about equally to brunch and to MJ as essential cultural constructs, either guess is plausible.


Last night, 2:00 AM:

"My shoe off!"

"Uhm. Fuh. Whuh? Baby?"

"My shoe off!"

"Yes, Kamal, your shoes are off."

"Mama shoe off!"

"Yes, mama's shoes are off. Because it's time to sleep. We don't sleep with shoes on. Can you go back to sleep?"

"Daddy shoe off!"


"Daddy shoe off!"



"Yes. Yes, Kamal. Ok. You're right. Daddy's shoes are off. It's sleepytime, honey. Ok?"

"Dahdah shoe off!"

"Yes, Toby is also not wearing any shoes. And he is asleep. So..."

"Yaaaaaay shoe off!"


"YAAAY! Shoe off!"

"Sweetie pie, it's--"

"Mah boo baba. Mah boo baba. Ma BOO baba!"

"Yes. You're wearing your blue pajamas. And--"

"Ma boo baba butt."

"And yes, your blue pajamas have buttons. But--"

"More butt! More. More more butt!"

"Yes, there are a lot of buttons. How about you lie back down now? Can you close your eyes?"


"Oh good. Good night, my sweet baby."

"Yes. Yesssss. YAAAAAAASSSS."

"Good night, honey."

"Yay, Yes!"

"Time to go to sleep, Kamal."

"No more Yes."

"That's right. No more Yes."

"Bye-bye, Yes!"

"[sigh] Bye-bye, Yes."

"Syoo, Yes!"

"See you, Yes."

"Naht naaaaht, mama."

"Nighty-night, sweetheart."

"Naht naht, Daddy."

"Daddy is sleeping, honey. Let's not wake him up just to say good night, okay?"

"Naht naht, Dahdah."

"Toby is sleeping too, honey."

"...Dahdah shoe off!"

This, along with occasional rebel yells of "No feet! ('No sleep!') No more feet!" and my eventual, unanswered pleas of "Are you ever going to go back to sleep? You have to fall sleep eventually, right?" was the long, dark soundtrack of my early morning. Until FIVE-THIRTY. Nonstop. My alarm went off at six for an early meeting. Came home from that meeting at a quarter to nine and found him passed out in the big orange chair with Adam.

This photo is actually from 3 months ago. But it's pretty much exactly what this morning looked like.

I just ordered another "help your child sleep better" book. I don't want to read another sleep book. I AM TOO TIRED TO READ ANOTHER SLEEP BOOK.

Tuesday, July 22, 2014


So. Leaving the Howarth Park playground early this evening, I buckled an extremely reluctant Kamal into his car seat. I let him hold my keys to distract him while I clicked him in. He threw them into the passenger seat; I didn't consider that he might have pushed buttons on the key fob. I went round to the driver's side to get in, and--you guessed it--locked. Every door: locked. Keys, cell phone, child: inside.
Fortunately, it was late in the day and pretty cool out, and Kamal, along with the rest of the parking lot, was adequately entertained by the elaborate "Wheels on the Bus" routine I performed outside his window. But wrapping up this drama, just fifteen minutes later, required an actual fire truck (man, the fire department is quick! Those guys are awesome) parked behind our car, along with what I'm sure was a modest group of kind, concerned well-wishers but felt in the moment like an enormous crowd of witnesses to my idiocy.
(Kamal was thrilled by the big red truck, not to mention bedtime is delayed. Throw in Mama dancing outside his window and all the interesting strangers peeking in at him and this was a giant win as far as he's concerned.)

To add to the list of sentences I never thought I'd utter:

"Hey, please don't color on my boobs, okay?"