Thursday, October 05, 2006

Let Me Out Of Here

Q has had a little trouble getting to sleep these last few nights, perhaps because we indulged him on the first evening and he's realized he can get away with it. Tonight, we put him to bed, and he smiled and waved, "night-night." When we stepped out of the room, the wailing began.

A rough translation:

Maaaa-maaaaa! Baaaaa-baaaaa! I've been abandoned on the steps of an orphanage, wrapped only in a thin blanket. In the wilds of Transylvania. Baaaaaa-baaaaa! And it's starting to snow. The feral dogs are approaching. They're starving because the people have eaten all the rats. Oh, help me, pleeeeeeease.

Happily, he fell asleep tonight in about ten minutes, before he could reach the next stage of pathos. Sleep well, my love!


Mir said...

Just wait until he's older. Then there is no wailing. There is only the fifteen trips out of bed (water, bathroom, possible monsters, something dreadfully important that must be shared RIGHT NOW, a rogue moth, and serious questions such as "what if the sun forgets to come up tomorrow?") and, finally, the Parental Losing Of The Shit. ("DO NOT GET OUT OF THAT BED AGAIN UNLESS YOU ARE BLEEDING OR ON FIRE!")

Good times. ;)

Suzanne said...

Wow, that's such an accurate translation! You are a skilled interpreter indeed.

Girl con Queso said...

Ha! Now that's a funny translation.

Lady M said...

Mir - Ha, more to look forward to!

Suzanne and Girl Con Queso - I'm getting a lot of practice. ;)

Mary P. said...

Bwah-ha. A sense of humour saves us much unnecessary parental angst. You think Q has melodrama down? Just wait till he's a teen! But since he'll never be a teenage girl, you'll miss the pinnacle of melodrama, done by a master of the craft. LOL