The Friday Morning Bear Report

Baby Bear was up at 4:30 this morning.  I went into his room to find him fully dressed, all the sheets ripped from his bed, and the bed itself completely disassembled.  A suspicious puddle lurked in the corner, just waiting for my bare foot to step into it.  Oddly enough, the light was off, but it couldn’t be turned on without yanking on the pull-chain in the ceiling fan.  Yet I couldn’t turn it on for the following reasons: 

(1) He’d long since removed most of the pull-chain, so what remains is only two inches long.

(2) The bed on which I might have stood to reach it was in pieces.

(3) I didn’t feel like searching for the stepstool at such an ungodly hour.

(4) Even though HE’S tall enough to reach it without artificial assistance, he wasn’t about to help this time because he had more important matters on his mind—like escape. 

So I had to rely on the hallway light.  Meanwhile, Bear grabbed his shoes and thought he might turn on the TV and enjoy a little Playstation or Netflix.  I thought otherwise and remanded him to his lair once it was back in order.

Of course, his father slept through all of this, though that didn’t stop him from remarking many hours later that he could’ve sworn he’d heard strange noises in his sleep.  The only reason I didn’t wake him up for assistance is because he thinks a 10 minute sleep disruption to deal with his son’s vagaries automatically entitles him to three extra hours of sleep.

Bear never went back to sleep.  Neither did I.  On the upside, he went to school in a better mood than I’m in this morning.