Clandestine Mice at Midnight

So this morning The Funasaurus and Tatum went about their daily morning routine as usual, and as The Funasaurus left for the dentist’s office (PSA: If you wait five years in between dentist visits, you don’t really gain much, they make you go back in for multiple visits right in a row, whenever you do finally go back) I heard the familiar THUNK scramblescramblescramble of a faux-mouse being thrown across the living room, and Tatum joyfully retrieving it like the little addict that he is.

Often, when The Funasaurus leaves, Tatum will cry, desperately, by the door. Until I inadvertently make some noise up stairs, and the little synapse in his brain goes, “Hey! Another mouse thrower is still available!” and he comes trotting upstairs with his beloved in his mouth.

Except today? There were two belovedES. I don’t know how he did it. But when I saw him outside of the office door, there were TWO mice. It is not unusual for Tatum to lose a mouse fairly quickly (he is not bright, if he does not both see and hear it land, it is GONE FOREVER or at least until the afternoon when he stumbles across it while chasing dust.)

What was unusual was that he had not lost the first one, but had also found a second, and managed to bring them both upstairs. I do not believe he has the memory capacity to have one, see one, put one down, and fetch the other one. Nay, he barely remembers to bring one back, let alone keep a mental image of two separate mice in his fuzzy little empty head.

Yet there two were. Sitting right next to each other, touching, in front of Tatum’s blissed-out little googly eyes. I can only surmise that he carried both in his mouth, at the same time. Which, when you consider the size of Tatum’s mouth compared to the size of those faux-mice, is rather impressive. Kind of like when you see a golden retriever carrying multiple tennis balls. Only imagine that in miniature, with a more crazed, less intelligent look in the eyes. And more flourescent blue faux-mouse fur.

I did not get a picture, but Tatum looked incredibly pleased with himself, rest assured.

Meanwhile, the secret that I alluded to the other day is about to be revealed, and OH THANK GOD, because I am not very good at keeping things to myself. I am more of a sharer.

I consider it a virtue.

Um.

Next transition.

Apparently, if you get 9+ hours of sleep a night for more than two months in a row (hee!) your body is finally like, “Dude, I’m done with the sleeping, let’s do something else.” And The Funasaurus and I found ourselves in the peculiar position of being freshly tooth-brushed and tucked into bed, totally not wanting to sleep. We tried our usual trick of getting to sleep (ahem) but afterwards we were still awake, just more sweaty.

So at 11:00 P.M. we got up and went downstairs to watch a movie on a Tuesday night. How exotic! It felt so much more special than starting a movie at 7:00, or on a weekend. We snuggled in, and found You, Me, and Dupree to be not all bad, and cuddled some more, and finally went to bed on the A.M. side of things. I cannot tell you the last time I saw an A.M. on a weeknight. It felt deliciously rebellious.

Yesterday we proceeded to utter obscenities at the alarm when it went off, and it occured to us why we do not do more delicious movie nights starting at 11:00 P.M. on Tuesdays, anymore.