What's wrong with pajamas?

Back in the fall, we had a hard time convincing LW to wear his pajamas. He spent most of the summer sleeping in just a pull-up and didn't see the need for more clothes at night. The fact that he was waking up freezing (his bedroom has no heat) did not do anything to change his mind. After weeks and weeks of bedtime arguments, he began wearing pajamas without complaint.

Until recently.

First, it was pajama tops he objected to. I'd help him get into this pajamas at night and tuck him in. When I checked on him later, before I went to bed, he'd be wearing a t-shirt and pajama bottoms.

Tonight he upped the ante.

I found him in my bed, wearing a t-shirt and shorts. Not the fleece pajama bottoms he was wearing when I tucked him in his bed.

Stubborn? My child? Whatever gave you that idea?

More book reviews

I finished three books in February:

Vanity Fair--I've already posted about Thackerey's habit of addressing the readers. He also responds to reader mail in the novel, which made me laugh. (Vanity Fair was originally published serially.) The book is enjoyable overall. It's basically a romance, with a villianess straight out of a soap opera. Unlike Austen's novels, Vanity Fair is laced with lots of contemporary references. Although the book is still understandable and pleasurable without understanding those, I would have preferred an annotated copy.

The Polish Officer--This is a World War II spy novel. I appreciate the great research that went into this book. I learned a lot about Poland. The plot is episodic, and the ending left much to be desired. The book didn't so much end as stop. But I love the writing.

"And the Clarais cousins? They're coming?" Bonneau said.
Soulier shrugged. It scared de Milja a little, the quality of that shrug. He understood it, he feared, all too well--the Clarais cousins hadn't shown up where they'd promised to be since the spring of 1285, likely tonight would be no different.

And this:

The mood in the cafes was now resignation, the defeat by the Germans called the debacle. De Milja found this a curious expression once he thought about it--just the sort of linguistic trap that the French liked to construct. It meant a complete route, a total collapse. But somewhere in the spirit of the word was a touch of the absurd, the comic: it wasn't anyone's fault, no point in assigning blame, it was just that everything went wrong all at once--a moment of Divine slapstick and poof, we lost the country.

Highland Fling--this is a British chic lit novel I checked out in anticipation of getting the stomach flu that's been sweeping through the family. And it's a perfectly servicable sick-day read. The romance seemed even stupider than usual though. Shouldn't the couple have at least two solid conversations before they get together? And why do Bristish novels always make me hungry? As Michael reminds me, the UK is not exactly known for its good food.

I've just started The 10,000 Year Explosion: How Civilization Accelerated Human Evolution.

When electronics fight back

Our Konica Minolta printer has been warning us since August (yes, you read that right) that our toner cartridge was running out of ink. I ordered a replacement, but since the quality of the printouts was still functional, I didn't insert it.

The print quality has degraded somewhat, but it's still adequate for our purposes, and given the cost of toner we decided to milk this cartridge as long as possible.

Apparently, the printer doesn't like that.

Now, when we print, we get a full-screen message warning us that our toner cartridge "is completely end of lifed." We have to close the error message before the printer will complete the job.

Uppity printer.

February recap

I should probably blog at least once this month, don't you think?

Here's what happened in February:

• I increased my telecommuting hours to full time, the first time I have officially worked full-time since EM was almost 3. Once I survive the current, huge company-wide development project and the learning curve of my new product, we'll re-evaluate whether the new schedule works. In the meantime, Michael and our housekeeper have taken on pretty much all of my inn duties.
• All three big kids received their results on the standardized tests they took in the fall. All three made Proficient with Distinction in both math and reading.
• High test scores aside, NB and IM taught LW "I Know a Song that Gets on Everybody's Nerves" and seemed shocked when he used this newfound knowledge to, well, get on their nerves.
• EM thought about auditioning for the middle school spring musical, but ended up deciding against it. NB and IM performed in a stage adaptation of Maurice Sendak's books. They had a lot of fun. (Of course, the bad thing about putting a classic picture book on stage is that the parents all know when the kids mess up their lines. The night Max wore his wolf suit and made mischief of one kind and another . . . )
• Michael and I survived a record-setting busy stretch at the inn. Mostly. The busy stretch keeps extending. My semi-retirement from the inn doesn't completely apply to President's week.
• My 52 books a year challenge suffered a bit under the double attack of Vanity Fair (interesting, but long and sometimes dry) and Battlestar Gallactica (a little too interesting, and thanks to Netflix I can keep the DVDs as long as I want and watch all the commentaries).
• The elementary school declared President's week "TV Turn-off Week." Ha. Normally I support efforts to reduce screen time, but during our busiest week of the year? Sorry.
• Kids get extra affectionate when they are contagious, the better to spread the germs. Now that NB just succumbed, EM and I are the only ones standing. I keep having psychosomatic symptoms, but so far they have all been false alarms.
• IM can throw up while sleeping and not wake up.