Sneak Attack.
Last night I told myself I would sit down and write a blog entry for today after I got off the trainer, hoping that inspiration would strike as I sweated.
It didn't.
I didn't get on the bike until later, at a time when I should have been contemplating setting the alarm clock and trying to ignore the glow from and near-constant ding! my wife's iPhone as I drifted off to sleep. Instead, I kitted up and clomped out to the garage for a tepid hour on the trainer. When I was finished, I was truly finished, and a shower was all that separated me from sleepy time. Sometimes you have to prioritize, and my Micronesian readers would just have to deal with the delay.
Jotting down a few words doesn't sound all that time consuming, but I was actually planning ahead for the inevitable. While the toddler was snoring away in his own little bed, snuggled under multiple fleece blankets, I knew this was temporary, designed to lull me into complacency so he could strike.
At 4:00 AM he launched his offensive.
Using stealth techniques I imagine he acquired from intensive SEAL team training and decades of ninjutsu immersion in Japan, my two-year-old son crept between my wife and I, taking utmost care not disturb either one of us. He positioned himself in the exact spot to inflict the most damage, braced himself against my wife, and then unleashed a display of destructive power not seen since the first Gulf War. Kicking furiously at my unprotected lady parts, he narrowly avoided being bounced off the wall because the surprise was so complete. Confused by the unexpected assault, I rolled on my side. Finding the previous strategy ineffective when presented with more robust defensive, he pivoted like Norman Schwarzkopf and employed the nuclear option. Using the stable platform my wife provided, he would tense his entire body, projecting his lower half high into the air before driving both feet into my kidneys. Shades of Ric Flair and Jimmy "Superfly" Snuka. He managed to land a few of these stunning blows before I caught his flying legs and restrained him. It was when I finally had him locked down and no longer able to mete out the pain that I noticed it.
The little fucker had been soundly asleep the whole time.
I, on the other hand, got a whole four hours of uninterrupted sleep.
Sorry your blog entry is late.
It didn't.
I didn't get on the bike until later, at a time when I should have been contemplating setting the alarm clock and trying to ignore the glow from and near-constant ding! my wife's iPhone as I drifted off to sleep. Instead, I kitted up and clomped out to the garage for a tepid hour on the trainer. When I was finished, I was truly finished, and a shower was all that separated me from sleepy time. Sometimes you have to prioritize, and my Micronesian readers would just have to deal with the delay.
Jotting down a few words doesn't sound all that time consuming, but I was actually planning ahead for the inevitable. While the toddler was snoring away in his own little bed, snuggled under multiple fleece blankets, I knew this was temporary, designed to lull me into complacency so he could strike.
At 4:00 AM he launched his offensive.
Using stealth techniques I imagine he acquired from intensive SEAL team training and decades of ninjutsu immersion in Japan, my two-year-old son crept between my wife and I, taking utmost care not disturb either one of us. He positioned himself in the exact spot to inflict the most damage, braced himself against my wife, and then unleashed a display of destructive power not seen since the first Gulf War. Kicking furiously at my unprotected lady parts, he narrowly avoided being bounced off the wall because the surprise was so complete. Confused by the unexpected assault, I rolled on my side. Finding the previous strategy ineffective when presented with more robust defensive, he pivoted like Norman Schwarzkopf and employed the nuclear option. Using the stable platform my wife provided, he would tense his entire body, projecting his lower half high into the air before driving both feet into my kidneys. Shades of Ric Flair and Jimmy "Superfly" Snuka. He managed to land a few of these stunning blows before I caught his flying legs and restrained him. It was when I finally had him locked down and no longer able to mete out the pain that I noticed it.
The little fucker had been soundly asleep the whole time.
I, on the other hand, got a whole four hours of uninterrupted sleep.
Sorry your blog entry is late.
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