So, yesterday's latter half meltdown culminated in a bedtime standoff that wouldn't have been out of place in a Tarantino film, with several codas of the gravel voiced movie trailer narrator announcing just when he thought it was over.... variety.

This morning I'd risen early, finished packing the books and was messing around re-pricing inventory when Fuss toddled into the living room with Giant Coodgie under one arm, flopped him onto the couch and collapsed on top, face protruding over the cushions from the nose up.

"Good morning, Dada," he said.

"Good morning, Fuss.  How did you sleep?"


He asked if I was going to work today and when I answered in the affirmative fidgeted for a moment then asked, "Dada, will you sit with me and watch a show for a little while before you go to work?"

"Of course I will."

I sat and we spent a companionable time sharing cut up apple on a plate with a glass of fizzy water, watching JoJo the Clown grapple with and finally surmount the extreme challenge of hanging posters for the circus.

Given my fundamental makeup as one of nature's most grudge-holding creatures my ability to let thing go when it comes to Fuss is likely my greatest parental achievement.

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