Tomorrow really is another day...

Today was the complete opposite of yesterday. My heart-to-heart with my little man worked, apparently. Even after the flipping train went by at 5:45 (is that really necessary?) and woke him up, he went back to sleep, only to be awakened again by the cussword cussword train at 6:30. I'm definitely writing them a letter---they have a 15 mile route and all the time in the world to travel it, and they have to do it under cover of darkness once in a while just to yank my chain?

Anyway, Andrew said only once that he didn't want to go to Beth's, and then he was cooperative. He even took leftover party favor bags with him when he went--one for Beth, one for his arch-enemy (the babysitter's son), and one for himself, of course. During the course of the day, he managed not to pee his britches at all and instead used her potty (woo-hoo), which warranted a cheapo toy surprise from Dollar General (a pretty nifty little bulldozer that should be fun in the sand this weekend at the lake). We played in the sandbox when we came home, and he was ultra-cooperative all evening, even going to sleep without much of a fuss. I'm headed to bed myself, at the risk of being scared half to death by the Midnight Express again. James is snoring already, and I should be too. Not that I snore. I don't. I sleep very daintily with my mouth closed so tightly not even any drool escapes, which is why my molars will be non-existent in about ten years. It's worth the price of a dry pillow, though.