Happy Easter, Christians. I can eat red meat and fried food again, which probably isn't a good thing. Thanks for nothing, Easter Bunny. Yesterday, we discovered that Daughter, while interminably adorable in an Easter dress, lacks the proper coping mechanisms to deal with a dropped plastic Easter egg that splits open, expelling the jelly beans inside. Dude, the jelly beans are right there on the floor. You can just pick them up and eat them. No one is disappointed in you. Now calm down and do your impression of an elephant because that shit's funny.
I don't know if it was the effect of consuming an unhealthy amount of sugar, my inability to come down after the Blackhawks' OT victory, my near-fever-pitch excitement over the upcoming royal wedding, or a combination of the three, but I was tossing and turning all night last night. At one point, I woke up laughing with knowing why. Has that ever happened to you? It happens every now and then to me, and I always wish I knew why I was laughing out loud in my sleep. Presumably, I heard a good Polack joke, witnessed a good t-ball liner to the coach's crotch video, or read a cartoon from The New Yorker.
At another point last night, I kid you not, I woke up to find myself scratching my wife's quadriceps, while wondering out loud whether Jake and The Fatman has been released on DVD. (After some quick research today, I was amazed to learn that it is, in fact, available.) Thankfully Jester is a pretty sound sleeper. I only wish I could remember the dream that led to that, since I hate touching anyone above the knee and I have never seen an episode of any show starring William Conrad.
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