Pre-emption and the dry tush

I was actually in bed.. tucked warmly into my artificially darkened bedroom, the bedroom with the brown polka dot saggy curtains [Saggy, because I got Mohanlal, the local ladies to tailor to make them, and he made them like he makes his clothes... saggy] ..... happy and content.. because I was doing what I did best.. what I wanted to do best.. what I truly excelled at.. my afternoon nap[Sleep, actually] .. and trust me, you would have to look very very far and very very long to find someone who can marathon nap, all the way from 1 to 4 every afternoon anywhere remotely south of 70 years.. I can sleep with the best of them octogenarians. 

Where were we?.. oh yes!. Sleeping.. It is now the unearthly witching hour of 2 pm.. when all excepting mad dogs and Englishmen are meant to be rapidly moving the eyeballs, and I find myself wide awake. Why, you may ask?.. Rational enough question really.. I find myself strangely diurnal, because my 2 year old big fat [A self-nomer, I assure you] is snuggled up next to me in my brown polka-dotted cave… without a pamper on.. Now any mum who has been awoken from the risqué places that she visits at will and without censure, by the gentle spreading warmth and slightly ammonic smell from the toddler next to her knows.. that what starts off as gentle and warm in an airconditioned atmosphere, will fairly soon[Read as immediately]  turn into icy wetness that reeks like a public urinal. So I’m up actually as a pre-emption.. because quite frankly if Maia doodi[Yet another self-nomer] wants to wallow in her own wetlands.. well.. what can I say?.. the rank stupidity of youth!.