Dances With Wolves
Content Warning: My flowing prose and rapier wit has been dented as we crawl into Day 3.
Maddie began the war dance last night.
She deviously spaced out her sleep terrorism tactics into about 60 to 90 minute intervals. I’m hoping that she takes pity and doesn’t start water-boarding us again tonight.
Gina says she never been so sleep-depleted. Sometime around 4am – I tied my sleeplessness record from freshman year in college that took place some time during the Bronze Age.
In front of the grandparents – Maddie is all butterscotch and ponies – during the night, she morphs into Cerberus – the three headed creature that guards the entrance to Hades, tearing limbs asunder and taking no prisoners.
We’ve also discovered that this young lady considers the diaper change to be a personal effrontery of biblical proportions.
At around 2am – I conjured up the spirit of the younger and more talented Kevin Costner – and taught my daughter the Tatonka tribal dance. This is similar to (but not to be confused with) Katy Perry’s I’m drunker than Kesha and can not recall my Friday night whereabouts dance. Too many slizzers I guess, but I digress.
Madeleine and I begin our faux-Sioux dance while I chanted in broken Jim Morrison lyrics – all the while injecting the word TATONKA! For some reason, this puts Maddie to sleep time after time!
Thank you again Mr. Costner! “You’re welcome, Meat,” says Crash.