I read in the NYT that folks who recall the past as if they were in a first person narrative are more likely to be affected by those memories than if they were recalled in third-person. However, if they imagine the future as third person, they're more likely to follow through.
I'll have to use that in my stories.
Last night Arthur didn't sleep well. He's been drooling so much that he's given himself some acne. When we got home from the movie, Arthur had taken over the Hannah Montana Memorial Bed; so I slept on the couch.
Mary had had some caffeineated coffee with Mark at the MET, so she was up until about 2:30 AM.
I woke up around 3 AM because Arthur was crying. I stumbled to Kristina's room, where he and Mark were sleeping. Well. In theory. The actuality was that Mark was trying to get Arthur to fall asleep in his crib because he was thrashing around too much to be able to safely sleep on the bed. Arthur was standing in his crib crying "Out. Please. Out. Pleeease" and probably waking the house. When I got in, Mark had a nest for himself on the ground next to Arthur's crib. Since this had been going on long enough to wake me up, I figured Arthur had been crying long enough. So I picked him up, rocked him, and crooned the "Farscape" theme (first season). Mark almost woke him when he said, "Aw" -- but I managed to get him into his crib with a minimum of crying.
Some deity answers my secret prayers: the Damn Hamster develops a twitch; he'll still sing, but you can't make him stop dancing. With ill-concealed delight I watch him writhe on the floor under a lamp table. Eventually, his batteries will die.
Saturday evening, we drove to Uncle Matt (Mary's brother) and Aunt Joanie's house. Matt and Joanie have a swimming pool, so we all got in. We got to see the Rasidek's: Nick, Laura (Matt and Joanie's daughter), and their triplet girls, Alexandria, Rebecca, and Michealia. The girls loved Arthur and taught him the word "bubblebutt."
And now that I think of it, Kristina taught him to sing "Shake Your Bootie."