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Wednesday, June 9, 2010

Some Days, I Think You're Trying To Kill Us.


Dear Laney,

Your weapon of choice? Sleep deprivation.

It's like when the government is trying to clear some crazy cult out of its compound, so they blast Britney Spears' latest album. Every night this week, you've woken up at 2am or so, found yourself alone in your room, and started screaming. I don't mean sobbing quietly. I mean an awful SCREECHING scream that upsets the neighbor's dogs.

It's beyond terrible.

I'm for letting you cry it out, because I know nothing's wrong with you - you're just craving attention in the middle of the night, so you're putting on a big ol' show. To paraphrase Lewis Grizzard, "you can't put no boogie woogie on the Queen of Rock n' Roll."

But under all your dad's manly chest hair beats the heart of a complete sucker. I mean, this man has been through Navy survival camp, so he should know better. But every night, he goes up there to calm you down. Which takes several hours.

Please, for the love of all that's holy, let your dad get a good night's sleep before you leave for college.

Love,
Mom

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