Didgeridoo Boy is *so* not good at the whole waking up thing. It bothers him, and his brains don't work right for several minutes. Imagine a six foot, three inch, baffled five-year-old with screwy blond and brown hair stumbling around, squinting, and you have it. Knowing he has a.m. difficulties, I will usually put his clothes for work in his computer chair, but last night I decided to fold them and put them (gasp) away. I told him this. Twice. He said that was fine. Twice.

This morning, I heard his signature exasperated sigh and some stomping around when he got out of bed. I went back up to the bedroom to try to settle him down a bit just as he opened the drawer that holds his jeans and pants. He was crouched and bent over it, muttering something about how God should do illicit things to it while damning the whole. He then stood up, looked in the mirror, messed his hair up even more, and went right back to digging around in the drawer. The pants he was looking for were on top. How he missed them, I don't know, but he did. He was digging through the drawer, and hard, and becoming increasingly flustered as he did so. And then he went wild.

Imagine a dog, digging in the yard, throwing dirt back between his or her hind legs with furious gusto. Now, imagine that sideways - and flinging jeans and pants. That was Didge. All of a sudden, there was an eruption of clothes - - the pair he was looking for included. The contents of the drawer were sailing through the air, landing on the bed. A pair of Levis almost hit the ceiling fan. He did his little sigh again and storked off down the stairs. I followed. He made his way to the dryer, opened it, and saw towels. This was an issue. In a panic, he asked, "Where are my clothes???"

I didn't say what I wanted to, which was, "They're on the bed, ding dong, where your jack ass tossed them." I said, "They were upstairs in your drawer. I put them away for you last night. Remember?" He went back up....and OPENED THE DRAWER. I shouted up the stairs, "Now they're on the bed, though, sweetie!"

He was very sheepish as he came back downstairs, all dressed up and ready for work. Very, very sheepish, asking what I was laughing at. I didn't tell him - thought it'd be best for him to have it dawn on him when he wakes up.