The Bird demands a Peter Pan story. I have no copy of Peter Pan in book form and am also confused by her request because the one time I tried to show her the Disney movie she was frightened and lasted only about 10 minutes. But, she demands Pan. I haven't read said story in ages, and although I love it, I'm really, really fuzzy on the details. And the larger plot as well. So I improvise, and rely heavily on the ticktock crocodile as a hypnotic toddler narcotic device. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Eventually, I'm a little sleepy as well, and the Benadryl that has become my bedtime ritual (what with the awesome two-birds-ness of it curing both allergies and insomnia) is making mama quite loopedy. My story consists of repeated visits to the mermaid lagoon (They have that, right? I remember a mermaid lagoon.) and as I get sleepier and more bored with my own winding, goofy Neverland tale, and the baby is nearing sleep, I find myself lingering on descriptions of the beautiful, delicious, shiny mermaids. I'm sure I stopped before it was like, "Dear Penthouse Forum, I'm a bisexual woman but I'd never been with a mermaid until..."
Bu was vaguely disturbed by my story, which is obviously very funny and not at all inappropriate as I have already made clear. I knew that my web junkie peeps would appreciate a very funny narrative about the sleepy hot-for-mermaids mommy and a pretty mermaid picture. But no. My beloved doodle + babble platform was b0rked. And it remains so. It's extra annoying, because I think Blogger will actually let me embed them into posts, and I can't test my theory.
And now for something