For Christmas this year, in addition to Lili (who is recovering well, by the way), Mom gave me a wonderful set of pyjamas. (And before you ask, Joel, I'm not planning on wearing them into a Tesco-like environment any time soon.)
They're a set of leopard-print silk (or at least silk-like) pyjamas - totally indulgent and I absolutely love them. Moose, on the other hand... not so much. First time I wore them, he didn't know what to expect and came romping across the couch, over the couch arm, in for a landing on Mom's "vast tracks of land"... and just kept sliding. If I hadn't caught him, I believe he was headed for Gresham.
Now, he's a lot more cautious, but it's still difficult for him to get purchase and get comfortable. He gets there eventually, but it's a lot more work than he's used to. But considering all the times that he's done the testicle tromp on his dad, and the breast boogie on me, Roger and I don't have a lot of sympathy for him.
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