bring the noyz

Last night, The Wife and I experienced one of the unexpected joys of parenthood.

As our eyes met in the dim light of the lava lamp the intoxicating warmth of vodka and Dr Pepper began to have the desired amorous effect.

[AN ASIDE: This is The Good Doctor Noyz's current beverage of choice simply because you can get large quantities of vodka for just a few bucks and a friend brought over lots of Dr Pepper earlier in the week. And if it has Dr Pepper in it, it has to be good.]

Ooooh baby. . . oh yeah. . . bom chicka bomp bom wacka chicka wacka chicka.

You see, for the past few weeks, The Wife and I have been so focused on and concerned about rescuing The Boy from the clutches of the evil Ms. von Munchausen and her so-called Home for Children with Significant Medical Needs that we have had neither time nor thought of meeting some of our more, um, shall we say, primal needs. Well, "Mission accomplished. Good work, men." as my original Talking G.I. Joe action figure I had as a child would say if you pulled on his dog tag.

The Boy has been rescued. He is here. He was sound asleep in his bed, smiling, so we thought, "Hey. . ." well, you know.

Bom chicka bomp bom wacka chicka wacka chicka.

Then, from the monitor on the nightstand "Coff coff coff".

He's fine, just a little cough, a common night time occurence for The Boy. We have to turn him during the night at least once every two or three hours to prevent a significant amount of saliva and mucous from pooling in his throat and lungs which could lead to pneumonia.

Wacka chicka wacka chicka. . .

"coff coff coff"

No, really. . . don't stop. . . yes. . . bom chicka bomp bom. . . he's fine, he's fine. . .

"coff coff COFF"

Damn damn damn! Gotta go check on The Boy.

"coff coff coff, wretch" ooh, what's that smell?

There is nothing quite like spending an hour cleaning up the mess made by a two year old who coughed so much trying to clear what can only be described as the world's longest booger that he vomited; and then filled a diaper with what looked, but believe me, smelled nothing like chocolate pudding to irreversibly change the mood of the evening.

Oh well, there's always tonight.
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