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Before heading to bed, I decided to stick my head into Henry's room to make sure he was still alive and healthy and all of that. Yes, I still do that, and yes, I still presume the worst, but since I tend do that with respect to everything in my life, it's not that big a deal. Anyway, since I hadn't heard a peep from him since 8:30, I expected to find him happily snoozing away in his usual position: on his stomach, arms by his sides, butt in the air. Instead what I was greeted with was Henry on his hands and knees with his hat in his mouth, looking at me slightly surprised. Ha! Caught in the act. No wonder he's always ready for his nap an hour after getting up in the morning. He's probably been up since 11PM smoking, drinking whiskey, and working on his latest collection of poetry which will be all about how I ruined his life before the age of six months but which I won't understand because I never understand poetry.