Sleepover

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Yesterday morning, I woke to the sound of my alarm. This is so foreign to me these days that in my confusion I was totally unable to locate said alarm (or my glasses, for that matter). After all, who needs a wakeup call when there is a small human living in the next room?

On this day, however, I was determined to wake before him. Despite it being her birthday, Wifey was traveling for work, so there was a bottle to prepare as well as my own (lifesaving) coffee. And let’s be real: even small tasks like that are much easier when nobody is yelling at you at the top of their lungs from starvation.

Once a week or so Mommy leaves Little Dude and I on our own for a manly slumber party. (Honestly I’m much more interested in slumbering than partying, but you catch my drift.) It’s a bittersweet occurrence; we miss Mommy desperately the moment she walks out the door, but boys will be boys… so this time around we tried out a new pizza delivery joint and also spent a fair amount of time at the gym. Mini-mi even wore a muscle tee just like Daddy.

Next week the nugget and I have two days to ourselves, and I’ve already begun to lay down plans. For sure we’ll throw back at least a couple of rounds together up the block at Thorn Street Brewery – our new local haunt – and maybe we’ll even make it to the San Diego Zoo. When the cat is away, the boys will indeed play. But we sure are happy to see that cab pull up to the house at the end of the day.