The sequence of bleat banner-art I’d planned for this week will resume at a later date. That is all.

I am on crib-watch duty at present, listening for the telltale thonk that indicates Gnat has successfully climbed out of the crib and fallen noggin-first to the floor. We’re having sleep issues again. We’re getting up at 5:30 AM, which is bad for children and other living things. Naps are off schedule. Nighttime is screwed up. No one’s happy.

In fact, she’s screaming, right now, the scream of the bereft and the abandoned; I’d better go console. And I go knowing no consolation is possible here; she wants to go into the other room and -


Ah. Good. Well -

No, she was just drawing breath for Typhoon Hysteria. Be back in a few hours.

Wow, that was easy. I told her that it was bed time, and she had to sleep in her crib now, and that I was right down the hall working on my puter. I used the kind-but-implacable voice, the one that means you can kick dents into the woodwork but no lollipop will be forthcoming.

She laid down without uttering another phoneme.

I’m tapped out tonight. I’ve spent the last three nights working until 1 AM and I’m rather tired of it, so I’m going to beg off tonight. But to repay all who showed up expecting something, and who actually took me at my word when I said there’d be regular updates to the Institute of Official Cheer, here’s the Big Little Book site. Such as it is. Enjoy.
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