trucky attacks!!

okay, not really.

wile and i had just made it home from the upper east side—a journey that, from our house, is not for the faint of heart even without an 11-month-old who is two hours overdue for nap time and therefore acting like a schizophrenic monkey on acid—i'm really happy and clapping my hands, whee! now i'm really upset and crying hysterically and clinging to your neck! here, let me climb up your shirt with my monkey claws! ooo! ooo! eee! eee!—and were sitting on his futon nursing. i had the window fan and the ceiling fan on, and the wind was making the door blow open and shut a little bit. he was 3/4 asleep, and i was leaning my head on the wall with my eyes closed. it was so nice and peaceful, after the long trip home from a long and tiring day...then i opened my eyes and saw, at the end of the futon, about three feet from my face, truck charging us like a crazed rhino!! i screamed and clutched the baby (who barely moved, he was so beat), and trucky took a hard right and skidded to a stop under the glider, looking around for whatever he thought was chasing him.

at this point i figured out what had happened: he must have come through the door when it was open and then had it catch him in the ass when the wind blew it shut, which catapulted him into his mad dash straight for us. so of course i started laughing silently, my eyes tearing, trying not to wake up the baby any more. but when i looked down at him, his little eyes were open about a millimeter and he was smiling this totally drunken smile around the boob, trying desperately to get in on the joke. he managed a few feeble little "heh"s before falling asleep again, and i nearly bust a lung trying not to laugh anymore, now both at my poor high-strung cat and my poor exhausted child.

not that i blame trucky for being high-strung, having to live with that crazy bitch up in his face all the time....