Mr. Manners

There are signs of progress here. The baboons whom we formerly hired to teach the children some manners are slacking off. Birdie has been refusing to go to sleep without resting his soft little head on my arm. Now isn't that cute and snuggly? Sure, except when I'd rather not lie there with a light blaring in my eyes, indefinitely, the evening ticking away, while he burrows around and jabbers himself to sleep. There are still a few things I would rather be doing, and that is besides scrubbing the squalid kitchen. Birdie demands, "Arm," or he says plaintively, "I need your arm."

Last night he was almost asleep and I tried to ease his head onto the pillow. Almost asleep, he said, "May I please have my arm?" Of course this was not his own arm a chainsaw had dropped on, but last time I checked, this arm was still attached to my body. At some point children develop personal boundaries, but evidently we are not there yet. At least there was a "please," so the baboons did teach him some human words.