Well, Gabe lasted until about 12:30, at which point he was in our bed, cheerfully announcing, "Want nur-nur! Want nur-nur!" Frankly, I don't blame him; to tell the truth, the whole time I was nursing him, I was lying there, thinking, "I am so thirsty. If I'm still asleep when he finishes, I am so going downstairs to get a drink. Thirrrrrrr-sty!" Must be the heater, making things all dry, though I don't see why the past few days have seen more heater action than the days before.

Before Sam's asthma diagnosis, we ran a humidifier in the winter. His allergy and asthma physician warned us, though, that dry air is much better for asthma and that we shouldn't run humidifiers much. That makes little sense to me, especially considering that he was coughing a good deal last night anyway. (I think it was the dust from the new bed or something; hopefully, it will be better tonight.) Even if the more moist air makes it a little harder to breathe, would it be so much worse than it is during the humid summer? I didn't notice him coughing more then, except for the days when we did things like go to hay-filled fairs. And he itches so badly, no matter how much lotion I rub on him or how little soap I use during baths. Might it not be worth the tradeoff? Must talk to his new doctor about it.

Anyway, on to night two. A couple of unexpected things: this set of bunkbeds is a lot taller than the one I grew up having, and I can't even see into the top bunk, let alone make it. (Of course, if I can't see it, it becomes less important to have it made, or so I'll tell myself...) There's no dimension of the room where we could put the bed to not have the ceiling fan overlap the edge of the bed, which isn't important now, as we weren't running it; we'll be replacing the fixture, I think, though. Last, Sam is pretty fascinated with the tap light, and last night he kept making it flash over and over, holding it under his blankets to try to enjoy the light after I asked him to stop. Naturally, Gabe kept rousing when the top bunk glowed, and when Sam carried it down the ladder to head for the bathroom, he tried to get up and follow the light. The journey toward peaceful room-sharing might be a bumpy one for those two.

They're both asleep again now. I can hope Gabe stays there a little longer tonight, since he was much more sleepy at bedtime; he went down with little fuss or complaint at all. Even as little as last night was nice; I got a few hours of arm-stretching sleep time, and a little luxury is better than none! Of course, when he came over, it felt nice to have him snuggle in, anyway. We'll take it slow, and all of us will be happy.

Gabe is marching around, singing:

"Wish-iss kitch-is,
Wish-iss kitch-is,
Wish-iss kitch-is,
Happy nooner."

Sam had his last day of school before the holiday break today, and his class had a party. A few days ago, he selected a present for his teacher while we were out: an ornament in the shape of an apple, reading "My Favorite Teacher." Once he laid eyes on it, there was no looking at other potential gifts; it was The Present, as far as he was concerned. He gave it to her today, and according to him, all the kids in the class had presents for the teacher, positively loading her down.

It reminded me of how a few days ago, a friend of mine with a teacher husband mentioned that he always gets a ton of presents every year. I honestly don't remember gifting many of my teachers once I got out of elementary school and moved to having multiple teachers a year. I think I gave presents to a few band directors, but I know I didn't bring in armloads of gifts every Christmas. Is that typical?

Sam also brought home the monthly school newsletter, which informed me that his class won the contest to see who could bring in the most items for the school food drive. They won by nearly a hundred items! I know I loaded Sam's backpack a few times, hoping the cans wouldn't be too heavy for him to carry (sensitive, caring Mama that I am), and it looks like I wasn't alone; now they'll get a pizza party sometime next month. (Something's uncomfortable ironic for me about that, the idea of splurging on junk food as a reward for helping to feed the hungry, no?)

Tomorrow morning, after dropping Eric and his armload of dumplings off for the Day of Feasting (how he and his coworkers spend the last day before their holiday shut-down), the boys and I will go over to a friend's house to make a gingerbread house with her kids. It's holiday-riffic around these parts, yes, indeed. All we lack is the homemade glitter-filled reindeer food to sprinkle on the lawn! But I know the recipe for that is around here somewhere...

Yet another A-plus parenting moment from tonight: Gabe demanded cookies before dinner, and I said no. He let out a big, "Ohhhhhhhh!" and then a "Hmmph!", stuck out his lower lip, and folded his arms across his chest in the most visible display of sulk I've seen in a long time. I couldn't help but laugh, grab the camera, and ask, "Gabey, can I take your picture?" He screamed and ran away. No picture for me, but the cookies were long forgotten.

Poll for December 21st!
Taking pictures of sulking or crying children	Mean and cruel! Mean, but the picture is worth it Only if it distracts them from whatever upset them Priceless
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