meanderings

Fuss was, uh, challenging last night.
I think that's the approved definition.
The gals were over for dinner (semi-successful Quiche Lorraine with problematic crusts, more successful bleu cheese dressing over co-op greens)and he refused to miss a single moment of the excitement.
He finally went down at 11. Having tried everything else, I laid him on his blankie in the bed and sat down next to him, expecting another few hours of scrambling and fussing, but he was so exhausted that he just lay on his back and stared at the ceiling.
Sensing opportunity, I petted his chest and sang to him and after ten or so minutes of frozen staring his eye finally shuttered down to half mast. He fell asleep and woke up with a start several times before he finally settled down.

Alas, for the rest of the night he woke up every few hours and started shrieking at the top of his lungs. Night terrors? Past life memories? The oatmeal he had for breakfast?
A mystery.

He woke me up at 7 as usual, seemingly unsubdued by the traumas of the night, and we had coffee in the living room.

And thanks to whoever straightened up the kitchen!
That was a pleasant surprise.