BEDTiME CONspIRACy

It's the end of yet another long, exhausting day. I spent the last hour repeating "please brush your teeth" 67 or so times, and finally my little one is snuggled under the blankets, begging for me to read him a book.

"An I Spy book, pleeease?"

Immediately, my blood pressure surges.

For those fortunate enough not to know, I Spy books are "seek and finds". And children love them. "Seek and find" puzzles have been around forever. Remember Highlights Magazine? I do. Each edition contained a "hidden pictures" page ...

... like this one. Fun and challenging enough, as I recall.

But no, not by today's standards. I Spy is like Mensa level seek and find.  The sadistic parent-haters who created I Spy are not satisfied with how agonizing it is searching for ONE ridiculously small plastic hen in their cluttered photograph. You must find THREE.

Here's an I Spy page. Although it could also be Martha Stewart's vomit. Hard to tell.  

A disconnected, poem-like verse captions each page, and lists the 18 or so items hidden in the mish mash of mind-fucking crapola. And my son expects us to locate each and every one of them. He is up for the challenge. I should be beaming with pride at his determination! Thanking the I Spy gods for creating this vehicle that encourages tenacious discovery! But I am spent. I just want to go downstairs, pour myself a glass of Beaujolais, and shag the shit of my husband! Instead, here I am reading ...

I spy a snowman, three hens in a row, A drumstick, a rabbit, a small yellow bow,
An almond, a magnet, a sea gull, a chick, A hammer, five cents, and a wooden toothpick.

A fucking ALMOND? A TOOTHPICK? Sure, we've got all night here. Why not add something smaller and more camouflaged, like a deer tick, or better yet, TWELVE deer ticks? And the moment I start counting the same deer tick twice, just to move it the hell along, that bugger of a son catches me! "No, we've already FOUND that one!" Jesus H. Christ, can someone find my sanity because I lost it on deer tick number five! And those dolls are creeping me out.

Eventually, he gets tired, too. Book gets shelved and his back gets rubbed. As he drifts off, he tells me he loves me. And now, I feel like Supermom!

Take that, I Spy demons. You have not defeated me, but have made me stronger. Energized, even!
Now it's my turn.

I spy a shot glass, a bottle of booze,
Crisp cotton bed sheets, two discarded shoes,
A feather, a blindfold, four long silky ties,
Five ice cubes, some whipped cream, then whatever flies!