Patterns

Life sometimes provides fascinating motifs. One expects patterns in mathematics. As one learns more math and how it applies to the natural world, one begins to see order in the chaos of the universe. Things like the natural log, the prevalence of sinusoidal functions, and the fact that two and two always and obstinately equals four, regardless of what objects you may be counting, are all indicative of said order. So when I see people carrying bagels in ziplock bags everywhere I go, with no apparent relevance to one another, I am nevertheless awed by nature’s display of uniformity.

Is it a sign? Maybe.

Will I change my shirt because of it? Probably.

Will I then see someone else wearing the same socks as me? Very likely.

Oh Mother Nature, you are such a tease!

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Now playing: Band of Skulls - Patterns
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Pee

So Mogli fell asleep in the car on the way home tonight. Naturally, I carefully tucked him in when we got back and went about the business of getting to bed myself. About thirty minutes later I heard him get out of bed and walk down the hall and into my room. I assumed he needed to pee and was, as he often does, checking to see if he can get in our bed, and, upon hearing that he cannot, asking to be tucked in after he relieved himself. “I’m in hear bubby” I called to him. But then I heard the tell tale tinkling sound and guessed he would finish and climb in my bed and I would move him momentarily. Something about that tinkle just didn’t sound right though…

He was still standing at the scene when I walked in (but what he was doing can barely be described as standing). In front of him was a Spin magazine with Paramore on the cover that had previously been dropped there haphazardly. It–and the floor around it–was soaked in urine.

“What are you doing?”

Just an unfocused stare and another wobble in response.

*sigh* “Go get in bed bro.”

After another unfocused glance, he attempted to comply. He made it halfway down the hall before he forgot what he was doing and began wandering, ending up back by my side a moment later. My second attempt at sending him to bed only earned a quick circle, starting toward the door and coming back to where I was standing in a few uneven steps. I carried him to his bed, where he immediately resumed his deepest sleep without so much as a sigh to hint at his escapade.

I suppose we’ll never know if the magazine was just the first target he saw, the unfortunate bystander in the wrong place at the wrong time, or if he has simply decided he doesn’t like Paramore. Regardless, I’ll be on high alert any time he gets up in the middle of the night from now on.

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Now playing: Paramore - Decode
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