Saturday, November 12, 2005

Shouting Soup and the Phantom


(irreverent POTO lyrics follow in a bit)

It's 1:20 am. I'm on the couch watching a Bob the Builder DVD with the Prawn and Mollusc. Why, you ask? They've taken up speaking Welsh. That's right, woofing their cookies, doing the technicolour yawn, yoffing, shouting soup, etc. etc. ad nauseum. Mollusc started this afternoon but hadn't yakked for 3 hours and was sleeping on the living room floor. Prawnie started about 20 mins ago, just in time to preempt bedtime festivities. Better before than during, I guess. Still. . . So now she's mashed against me on the couch (OK that's cosy :o) ) coughing and burping into a wastebasket (no further actual shouting of soup, but I can tell it's coming. . .) The poor girl is so tired. I thought maybe I'd read some Thomas Covenant but we've got the lights pretty dim. Maybe I'll sneak 'em up a tad. The kitties, meanwhile, are pleased as punch to have so much nocturnal activity. Emmett has just cosied up to the chunder bucket and is purring noisily.

To tell the truth, my own tum has not been feeling excellent, but I suspect that that has more to do with the Fire Cheetos than anything else.

We watched Encino Man with the kidlets tonight. This was their first time seeing it and they enjoyed it a lot.

Swimming was great as usual. Prawnie swam a bit on her back (!) and swam quite a lot with her head out of the water. Fishy got bolder (marginally bolder) and was leaping off the side (clutching my hand or arm in a viselike grip as soon as he hit the water) and swimming back to the side. The bigs kept pretty busy with hide-and-seek, find the sunken goggles, jumping off the side, etec.

Ah, thar she blows again. Poor wee one.

I've got "Past the Point of No Return" running though my head over and over. I suppose that's sort of appropos.

Sluggie has joined us. "I can't sleep with everybody puking." Only Fishy is blissfully asleep. He woke up initially, but has the gift of being able to return to sleep quickly and effortlessly.

Past the point of no return
Another puker
We're sitting on the couch and shouting soup

Past the point of peaceful sleep
No use resisting
Abandon thought and let the bile ascend

What raging spew shall flood the floor
What stomach now unlocks its door
What foul production lies before us

Past the point of no return
The final threshold
What half digested dinners
Will we see beyond the point of no return

This has brought you
To that moment when heaves run dry
To that moment when speech disappears
Into wretching
Wretching. . .

With sincere and heartfelt apologies to the extremely talented Andrew Lloyd Weber.

Better to have this hit us now than next Friday, since John and I test on Saturday. Yikes. That would be nasty.

2:00 am now and going strong. We're on to the Rubbadubbers now. Well, at least I'm not sleepy yet. The bigs were rooting for Star Wars. To tell the truth, so was I, but this is OK now we've got it on.

Trillian was attacking a balloon larger than she is today. She kept going after the nubby, tied end. Her claws would hook it and send it flying up, so she'd look around until it came down (can we actually have another cat that doesn't "do" up?) She finally punctured it, and it was pretty comical watching her attack it as is slowly shrank. When it got all floppy, she picked it up by the end with her mouth and walked off.

Have you ever been drifting in and out of sleep while talking or reading to someone and woken up in time to hear the absolute nonsense coming out of your mouth? It can be funny if it happens during bedtime stories. I always feel I have to cover at that point, LOL! I'm suddenly getting to that point now. I wasn't sleepy at all 5 mins ago. Weird.

OK, I laid in a supply of undies for Prawn. This is the sort of soup-shouting that gets you blowing chunks out the fore and aft hatches simultaneously. Sigh.

Anyone laying odds on the time it will take Sluggie and Fishy to join in the fun?

I'd like to stay awake til this tapers off, cuz I know it's going to be a lot harder to get up and help once I drop off.

Yawn. Must. . . hold. . . out. . .

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