I made a huge dinner last night. Pork brined and roasted in a thick mushroom gravy, mashed potatoes, buttered and salted, steamed broccoli and fresh garlic-buttered dinner rolls. I made too much food and still we ate it all and then after hockey was over, we retired to the theater to watch The Lightning Thief. I curled up in the corner of the big sectional and put my head on Ben's chest. He was sacked out directly in the center of the couch, feet up on the coffee table, warm as toast for a change.
Lights out.
I was told it was a good movie.
I got up and refreshed some drinks and put the children to bed and we headed back downstairs to watch The Song Remains The Same. I put my head down again on Ben and that was that. Out for the duration. (Sorry, Robert, nice jeans.)
I really think some sort of sleeping gas is piped from the Blu-ray player that only affects Bridgets. Now when the boys want to watch a movie they call it 'putting the baby down for her nap'.
