Ryan's home for the holidays, before he moves far, far away for his new job (hey, check out my son! He graduated college last week, and he starts a great job in two weeks! Go Ryan!!)
The first night he was home, I told him that the warm covers for the bed he's sleeping on were in the dryer, so he could get them out when he was ready to go to sleep.
The conversation went something like this:
Me: Hey, it gets cold in my office overnight, so don't forget to put the comforter that's in the dryer on it before you go to sleep.
Him: Okay. Thanks. G'night.
Me: I love you, kiddo. G'night.
I went to bed, and the next morning at breakfast he told us how cold he was overnight, because we didn't give him any warm bedding.
See, even at 22, the damn kids still have brain damage.
I reminded him of our conversation. He recalled it (having apparently forgotten it, immediately after I told him goodnight, likely because that part of his brain is the part that also processes requests to put his goddamn dishes in the dishwasher), and that was the end of that.
Flash forward to later yesterday afternoon. Ryan and Nolan were out with some of Nolan's friends, and Ryan texted me, "Will you put the covers on the bed, so I don't forget them again?" I told him that I would do just that.
…then I got this idea to be a Trolldad. Instead of making the bed, I put the covers in a neatly-folded pile at the foot of the bed, and made this picture, which I printed out and put on top of them:
(Click all images to embiggen at Imgur)
I thought that was so stupidly funny, I made this picture, and put it in the middle of the blankets:
I was having way too much fun, so I put this on his pillow:
And finally, this was folded up and put under the sheets where it would crinkle and make him get out of bed after he thought he was getting into it to go to sleep:
When he woke up this morning, I asked him if he got my notes.
"Oh my god, that was hilarious," he said.
"It was pretty amusing to me," I said.
"The best one was the last one, because I thought I was done with your notes and I could just go to bed, and then I was all, 'OH GODDAMMIT!'"
"That was the idea," I said.
"Well done, sir," he said.
"I spent more time making those stupid pictures than I would have spent making the bed," I said. "I'm very proud of that."
"Oh, I'm sure you are. Good job," he said.
As we parted ways and I walked out of the living room toward my bedroom, I heard him say, softly, "…and it is on."
So I have that to look forward to for the next two weeks.