My kids and I saw Rise Of The Guardians this weekend. The movie was filled with Santa, the Easter Bunny, The Tooth Fairy and surprise surprise, The Sandman. I've never seen him until now but he's a little, pudgy, golden looking guy who sprinkles magical sand on all the little girls and boys to give them nice dreams and a full night of sleep. What a hack. Here's what I'd say to him if I had the chance:
Your sand is crap. It doesn't work. Because let me tell you, with a 7-year-old and a 4-year-old, I can honestly say it's been at least seven years since I got a full night's sleep, maybe seven years and nine months if you count the nine months the my wife was brewing the little sleep thieves inside her and I'd get nudged out of bed or sent on midnight missions for glasses of water or emergency Oreos. Where was your sprinkle sand then? Where's it been the past seven years when the girls get up each night, run down the hall and storm the bed like we're at war? Where's your little magical dust now? The only time that stuff is working is when husband tries to cozy up next to wife in the middle of the night. Then you must have a double dose of sand going because there is NOTHING waking the wife then. Nice one. I should really call Consumer Affairs on you... or at the very least put a strongly worded review on Yelp. Your sand doesn't work. You and your magical sleep soot are dead to me. What's that? I just need to believe in you more? OK, prove it to me. Eight hours of sleep. Uninterrupted. Hit me with the sand, magic man. Go ahead. The parents of the world deserve a good night's sleep. You don't want to make us grumpy. Do it. Your move.