Last night I was changing into–what else?–my snowflake flannel pajamas.  (I got them on clearance at Old Navy a few Christmases ago and they rock.  If I’m not in my Pumas, you can bet I’m in these.)  I was just pulling the baggy pants up when Ethan walked into my room.  He didn’t see anything–I already had them pretty much on–but out of habit I said, “Look the other way, bud!”

He immediately jolted his head away from where I stood and put up two hands (side-by-side) next to his face as a blinder.  As he walked past me, his face turned away and hand-blinder sharply drawn, I heard him muttering to himself, “Think happy thoughts…think happy thoughts…think happy thoughts…”  He repeated this mantra of comfort until he crossed my room and found his way into the bathroom.  I heard the chanting continue as I listened through the closed door.

Ouch. What I wouldn’t give to be on the receiving end of a good ‘ole Oedipus complex right about now.

 

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