The brink of disaster
It's been touch and go with Doodle since he's been getting this molar. Yesterday, for instance, he was in great spirits, until I came home, and then apparently every emotion, every bit of pain, every whine he'd bottled up during the day came pouring out. I think it's sweet that he thinks of me when he is repressing his rage.

Anyway, for the past few days, we've noticed a large inflatable gorilla flying atop a tire store that is along the highway on our route to and from daycare. The gorilla, it brings joy and balance to our lives.

This morning, I was trying to roust Doodle from his slumbers. "Come on, it's time to get up and get ready for school," I said. This was met with the sight of Doodle pulling his blanket over his head and pretending he didn't hear me.

I tried again.

"Come on, it's time to get up and watch George," I said.
That merited the cracking open of one eyelid, then the closing of said eyelid, and the resuming of pseudo-sleep.

Suddenly, a lightbulb went off, both eyes opened, and he said to me, "I see big monkey?"

Bingo. We were up and at 'em in no time flat.

As we passed the inflatable gorilla, I pointed it out to Doodle, but he was looking out the other window and MISSED IT.

Oh. My. God.

Had we not been running superduper late, as in, one more minute and Doodle would have missed breakfast, I would have pulled over and made sure he saw that damn gorilla. Because a child without his inflatable gorilla fix is ... well, it's just wrong.