Monster Game

Flying solo this evening, I got a pot of potato leek soup simmering and managed to make the bed.
You'd be justified in saying I'm not a strong housekeeper, but I'd still demand an Olympic diving style degree of difficulty multiplier for performing both acts with Fuss fresh off a nap and raring to go. Jack LaLanne tows a bunch of boats across a harbor, whatever. But when he drags them across with his teeth while handcuffed and shackled, that's news!

That's making the bed with Fuss. Jumping, hiding, playing ghostie, throwing everything on the floor to make a pile to jump on while you're looking for pillowcases...you name it.

Eventually I won the trench war and we both collapsed to recover from shell shock.
While lying there delirious, Fuss decided to turn off the light and play a game.

"Look dada, it's a JUICE MONSTER!" Pointing at his sippy cup on the dresser.
"Look dada, it's a...PICTURE MONSTER!" Pointing at the Arcade Fire poster.
"Look dada, it's a HAT MONSTER!" Pointing at one of the ceiling fans (Hats, in Fuss Speak).
"Dada...ANOTHER Hat Monster!" pointing at the other one.

It goes on like that for a while and I get in the rhythm, echoing his descriptions and making appropriately terrified sounds. Then, as he often does, he throws his curve ball. Pointing the open closet door, he says

"Look, dada...it's a WARDROBE MONSTER!"

And totally cracks me up.