Further tears before bedtime

So tonight it was my turn again to put Destroyer down. This would be the last time before her second birthday, and she marked it in style by being quite copacetic while I read her the story of Little Miss Magic, and then literally climbing the walls, screaming constantly for her mother, once I put the lights out and tried to get her to lie down.

“No Daddy, no!” the howls continued for quite some time, until she gave up climbing on me to open the door, and settled down on the floor, where she lay with her head on my legs, sobbing occasionally, and refusing utterly when I tried to make her more comfortable with a pillow to lie upon.
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The Ballad Of Black Tom

I finished The Ballad Of Black Tom this evening, after putting the kids to bed. It’s a rare Lovecraftian story that has a happy ending, and the most positive we can say of this one is that the protagonist defenestrates himself, rather than having his mind eaten by eldritch horrors. Continue reading “The Ballad Of Black Tom”

Tears at bedtime

I tried to get Destroyer to go to sleep tonight, but she was unsatisfied with the replacement offered for her mother, and screamed and screamed and screamed. She lay on the floor (carefully) and then kicked her feet, still screaming, almost knocking down the old blinds, and then went to the pile of books on the bedside table and tried to put them on the floor.

I put them on the floor for her. She screamed.

I put them back on the table. She screamed.

I retreated to the corner of the room and she screamed and screamed, until my wife came in and put her to bed in five minutes (all that screaming is very tiring, evidently) which fixed things in the short term but fails to persuade Destroyer that screaming isn’t a good negotiating tactic.
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Coffee doesn’t always work

This morning we woke about 7:30 and watched yesterday’s Dutch MotoGP race, and after screaming at the screen (the last fifteen minutes were full of nailbiting action, even if we were watching a recording from yesterday) we ate the remaining food in the house (some yogurt and two cupcakes) and then went out for our second breakfast. You should always line your stomach, even in preparation for breakfast.
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Fighting to sleep

I failed to heed my own advice and didn’t stay awake for long on the flight; I was unconscious by halfway through Miss Congeniality (just like the scriptwriters, ironically enough) and slept soundly for eight hours. Which meant I woke about midnight Singapore time and couldn’t get back to sleep, and so I arrived home at 7am with all the joy squashed out of me. Continue reading “Fighting to sleep”

Up up and away again

I had an anthropology graduate drive me to the airport today, so that meant I got to talk to somebody about colonialism for half an hour. Roughly half my Lyft drivers have been interesting on this trip, and the rest hardly spoke; there was an ex-domain broker, a political agent, an ultramarathon runner and a man who didn’t want to go on holiday with his family to Boracay because it’s too expensive. So that was an interesting view into another life. Continue reading “Up up and away again”

Remote sickness

My wife called me this morning (or this evening – I’m now tired enough to not be able to comprehend timezones) to tell me that the girls were sick. La Serpiente has mouldy feet, and Destroyer is coming down with foot and mouth disease. It’s enough to make you want to stay put on the other side of the Pacific, but I guess I must return to my pestilential family to bring them some succour.

Also, whistles.
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