A single, child-free friend of mine once remarked that she would go insane living in my house, because I appear to have constant couch cushion chaos. I refrained from pointing out that I have already gone insane.
This picture provides no real clues to how William ended up sleeping under the toy box, but it does provide compelling evidence that there is a malevolent force at work in my media room downstairs. Heck – in every room. Friends, I present Exhibit A: Child Unconscious on Pile of Furniture Rubble.
What’s really calloused here is how William continues to play Xbox with no concern for his brother’s well-being. If he were Ryan Gosling, he’d be like “Hey girl, I know you get all concerned when we sleep buried in piles of rubble, but it’s okay, girl. You know how we are, girl.”
William is probably using this opportunity to level up in Lego Star Wars, seeing as how his bro isn’t as good at the game as he is. Toddler motor skills.
Hey girl, I know you get your undies in a bunch when we wreck the house. But you know how much virile energy we have, girl. You know how it is.