Paging Professor X

Two nights and three naps into the trip, I’ve come to a realization: our sperm donor was obviously a member of the X-Men. We’re talking mutant genetic material, full of freaky-deaky powers. This is an obvious conclusion, really. Because there is simply no other way that Pook could morph into a human-cephalopod hybrid every time the lights go out. X-Men. Because obviously.

Sleeping with Pook is like sleeping with a drunk but deeply determined octopus, if the octopus in question had a wild thatch of blonde Lieutenant Dan hair and the ability to speak. There are appendages everywhere – at one point I even turned on a light because I counted more than 4 sets of fingers/toes/tentacles patting various parts of me in the dark. With the lights on, she looked like her normal self, but my toddler cannot normally reach across a king sized bed to slide her toes up the leg of my pajama pants. Obviously, she only changes in the dark. Is that an paternal identity clue? Which of the X-Men can shape shift? Are they a dude? (Wait… does gender matter if you’re a shape-shifter? Can you shape-shift into a sperm donor?) There are a lot of big picture questions that I don’t have the answers for. Clearly, I’m reading the wrong genre of literature for my life choices.

In real life, Pook sees a speech therapist twice a month. But Octopook speaks full sentences in her sleep. Last night at 1:17am, she sat straight up and shouted at top volume, “I said no thank you!” and if you think there’s a white noise machine on earth capable of drowning that out, you are very mistaken. Octopook can simultaneously pat my hair, raise the blinds across the room and snore like a Husqvarna chainsaw. I can’t sleep next to this kid. For one thing, she’s too flippin’ loud to make that possible. More importantly, I’m pretty sure she’s gonna eat me if I close my eyes.

Here’s to Friday evening. May we all sleep peacefully, with nary a tentacle to poke in our ears or nostrils, with no tiny Octopook screaming instructions in the darkness and no further shape shifting in a shared bed. For the love of God, kid. Go to sleep before I figure out which of the X-Men to blame.