Here in Woody's House of Pestilence we have a zero-tolerance policy against silent suffering. As I noted before, when Daddy is miserable, whining abounds. Now, Mrs. Woody and the smaller Woodyette are both under the weather. The older Woodyette was threatening, but she pulled out of her dive rather quickly. Still, a remnant remains.
Years ago, Bill Cosby did a wonderful routine revolving around his five linoleum lizards. One child, the one he tagged "the Glazed Donut Monster" was the one with the perpetually runny nose and a sound effect like the Blob on steroids. That one always tickles me, because all of my children (the ones that were actually babies in my house at one time or another) went through that stage. Sound effects and all.
Now that my last babies are a bit older, the sound effects have gotten more sophisticated. And louder. Since they both can be drama queens when the Muse is upon them, everything is done for effect. Subconsciously, of course, but effect nonetheless.
Even now, as I focus on this post, I am aware of an interesting rhythm going on around me. The girls are both watching videos at the moment. The older one chose "The Parent Trap" (the classic, not the knock-offs) while the younger one is enjoying "Zeus and Roxanne." Of the videos I am blissfully ignorant. The sound effects are hilarious. This is what it sounds like when small children refuse to use tissues:
I think there really is a pattern here. They are not by any means aware of it, they're just doing it. Daddy, in the meantime, is silently shaking with mirth. I'm not sure why I find this funny, but I do. Maybe it hearkens back to my days as a missionary in the Guatemalan highlands having extremely immature contests with fellow missionaries. I leave it to your imagination what those contests may have entailed.
Mrs. Woody is already in bed, having wisely put her germs down for a nap. Woodyette the Younger unfortunately had a four hour nap right about the time I got home from work today, which means she will be wide-eyed until about, oh, five o'clock in the morning. The other one is tired enough to fall asleep standing up, but she will refuse to go until her movie is over. Lessee... it's the campground scene where the girls have boobytrapped the golddigger's tent. Nuts. Another 20 minutes to go.
Ah, well. If it weren't for sleep deprivation, I'd have no hobbies at all. The good news is that I don't have any meetings tomorrow. None that I have to stay awake for, at any rate. I should be able to catch a few winks at my desk. In the meantime, enjoy the dulcet tones of our new family band:
The Honking Noses of the Woodyettes.