Little Monkeys

While watching Dancing With The Stars tonight (yes, I know, this show will not help my nausea) I noticed that there was an awful lot of bass during the show.

[aside: For a Christmas present last year Dan *gave* us surround sound in our family room. This wonderful and expensive gift frequently causes people to exclaim, "What is wrong with your house!?" when they are visiting our vibrating domicile. Because of this...feature, I often turn off the down-firing bass (or, as my Dad calls it, the bottom-shooter). Dan discovered that I had turned it off this weekend and lectured me about acoustics and turned it back on.]

Figuring that it was the bottom-shooter, I ignored it at first. Then I noticed the bass thumps were happening when I was fast-forwarding the TiVo-ed show. I went upstairs to investigate. What I found was a small child jumping out of his bed. Over and over. When he saw me enter the room, he said to me, "Ahhhh!" (as if he'd been wondering what was taking me so long to come up there). "I'm all finished with this bed, I'm ready for YOUR bed." This prompted me to immediately check for puddles. Finding none, I tried to get the child back to a laying position, and it was then that I discovered every item in his room (except for the dresser) was under his covers. I guess that he meant that he was finished stuffing his bed. I removed all of the junk, and he fell back into bed and yelled, "GOODNIGHT!" which was my cue to leave as quickly as possible.