Fraternity Life

OK, you all are going to scoff at me when I admit this, but the truth is, it happens to nearly every parent and nearly all of you have given in at least once; we just happen to give in every day. By the time morning comes, both kids end up in our bed. I used to fight it, but I have come to the realization that I have a small window of opportunity in my life before my babies are too big to cuddle with me--I have decided to embrace their warm little snugly bodies into my bed. I am digressing; on to the point. Last night Zeke started squirming around, then stumbled out of bed and toward the bathroom. I did not hear the toilet lid prop open, so I went to check it out. Instead of the sweet sound of liquid hitting liquid, I heard liquid splatting onto something firm, like the trash can (and the wall, and the floor). I pointed him in the right direction for the final drops. As I turned on the light to assess the damage, he was stumbling around in such a drowsy slumber he appeared to be in a drunken stupor. I felt as if I should have joined in with Zeke's fraternity brothers, proudly chanting his house name which is possible he may rightfully earn one day. "Zeke the Streak! Zeke the Streak!" *note: Although this photo was not from last night, it was not staged. Oh, and the 'Mom' tat was airbrushed, but I thought it added to the drunken fraternity feel.