This morning as usual, our five-year-old found his way to the middle of the big bed in the night and woke up loud and early. “Can I watch a movie?’ he crowed. “Can I play Angry Birds?” I mustered my energy and talked him into building a Lego space station with me instead of one of those video choices. He ran off to pee.
Then Laura pipes up. “Let’s set him up with a movie and have a quickie.” Now that’s a shocker, because usually she is no fan of videos over imaginative play. Plus she had already heard me agree to get up, which means she could sleep in. But who am I to question?
And as you know if you’ve been reading my posts, I never say no to sex. And besides that resolution, I wanted to. So she went off, got the show going and quickly returned.
Fast forward fifteen minutes. I’m prone, biting the pillows, and suddenly (in the midst of an overdue orgasm) the action comes to an abrupt halt and Laura throws her body on top of me. I’m confused. Then I hear the sweet piping tones of little J. He’s burst into our room right in the middle of things! “There’s a problem with the TV,” he’s saying. But more important than what he’s saying, is, what is he seeing?
I don’t know, because my head is buried, but everything seems ok. He’s not asking awkward questions. So off they go to fix the DVD.
There I am spitting out feathers and trying to decide whether to get up or wait and see what happens. I wait. She comes back. Fast forward another fifteen minutes. Naked parents, damp sheets, and the show’s over, both shows. In he comes running and jumps on the bed. “Whoa, there!” We parents both jump up, get him off the bed, Laura whisks him off for breakfast and I whisk the sheets off the bed.
What a great morning! I’m so proud of us, not only did we choose sex over sleep, and then get interrupted and find the wherewithal to resume, we even manged to get him to school more or less on time.
I get a star for my sticker chart.
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