Throwing stuff at the internet to see what sticks
Wednesday, December 08, 2010 Shoulder Surfing
Sometimes M. Edium likes to come into our bedroom to fall asleep in our bed at night. There are very strict protocols in place for this. He is not allowed to speak, except to say "I love you." He must lie still. He must make a good faith effort to fall asleep. If any of these rules are broken, he is sent (okay, carried) back to his own bed.
Recently, it's becoming apparent that a new rule must be put into effect: no reading Daddy's laptop screen.
He likes at least one of us to be upstairs with him while he's falling asleep, and some nights I like to sprawl on our bed and type with my computer in my lap, whether it's that week's recap, a blog entry, or what Trash and I call "work-work." Until recently, I didn't have to think about it.
But now, writing is becoming like performance art, with every one of my words read and scrutinized in real time, as they appear on the screen. No sooner have I finished typing a word than I'm hearing it whispered by a soft, high voice in my left ear, like a text-to-speech translation app that has some helium in its code.
I try not to let it cramp my style, but I don't let anyone read over my shoulder while I'm typing. Not even Trash. For one thing, I'm not the best typer; I can type quickly, or well, but not both at the same time. It makes me self-conscious.
And yes, as I'm typing this very entry, that is exactly what is happening.
"Lie down," I say.
"It just keeps getting funnier and funnier," he laughs.
"You need to go to sleep," I say.
"I'm not. I'm reading," he says.
Then he reads everything I just wrote, so it's like having the whole conversation over again.
Are you going to stop or are you going back to your own bed? I type, without bothering to say it out loud. I look at him. He laughs.
"Well, how does this end?" I ask him.
"Well, how does this end, I ask him?" he repeats.
I should know better than to encourage him at almost 9:00 PM, but this is the cheapest, easiest idea for a blog entry ever.
"So? What?" he asks me, after reading that last paragraph.
Wzfcthnjmuklm, he types.
Then he adds,
My daddy should go to bed but he should be quiet too
After typing that last line himself, he has a deal. posted by M. Giant 5:23 AM 0 comments