Snuffalufagus

ninjaIt’s amazing what you discover when you change things up. Doctor Dash is out of town for my little brother’s bachelor party, so I told Saint James and Supergirl they could sleep in our bed with me. I didn’t sleep a wink until I finally picked up my pillow and beat a hasty retreat to Saint James’ bed. Holy Moses, he sounds like a cross between an obese man and a wild boar. He sounds like the Industrial Revolution is unfolding up his nose, with cadres of child laborers slaving away at top speed in a tin cup factory. I had to keep opening my eyes to make sure all the snoring and sniffling and snarfling and clanging was coming from one small eight year old boy. Mystery revealed, it is no small wonder he wakes up every morning, his hair on end, looking like he’s been up all night popping No-Doze and writing a paper on Kant. He puts the grog in groggy, the phlegm in phlegmy. First thing Monday morning, I’m calling the ENT. Something tells me we’re going to be wrangling some adenoids this summer.

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