A Very Smart Child Who Is Not One Of Mine

I'm heading to NYC (what is it about you?) on what is partly a business trip this Tuesday for a week, so I'm up to my earlobes in work, stress, and trying to figure out what to do about the zit on my cheek. (I'm 42! It is unfair to be asked to battle wrinkles and age spots as well as acne, don't you think?) (And can I paint a pretty picture of myself or what?) So I don't have time for introspection or any other spection right now. Instead, I have only this tidbit, from last night, when WeeyumWise came over for his very first mommy-less sleepover.

WeeyumWise's parents had left, and I had just allowed the boys a highly illegal, sugary snack and had gotten them ready for bed when I sank into an armchair in our living room and sighed.

"I don't know about you guys," I said to the two pajama'ed 5-year-olds in front of me, "but I'm EXHAUSTED."

WeeyumWise eyed me for a moment, and then began. "Every day, parents say they're sleepy, but they don't go to sleep! And kids say we're not sleepy, but we have to go to sleep. Why is that?"

Why indeed?

Yawn.

Talk to y'all from New York, I guess. And if I do get a chance to go hang with Rich, as I hope I will, I'll be sure to bring my laptop. It's times like this I wish I had one of those "I'm blogging this" t-shirts.