I’m not looking for pity as I pen these words, sitting in bed hoping beyond hope that Justine may sleep through the night and provide us with an oasis of sanity in what has been a sea of nightmares. I only seek the relatively comforting knowledge that we are not alone in our childhood sleeping disorders – something that the Internet seems to confirm in spades. But still I wonder – where have we gone wrong? Or even IF we’ve gone wrong?

Some look down upon us, admonishing us for not following ‘advice X’ or ‘Plan Y’ or even ‘Dr. Z’s Can’t Miss Strategy for Sedating Your Kid.’ Truth is, we’ve tried many of those ideas, with varying degrees of success. But kids are different, and even the same infant can change radically from one day to the next. Justine will sleep well for a few weeks, then her incisors come a-knockin’ and we’re screwed. The pain subsides, sleep resumes until Johnny Molars suddenly appearscomes. Or a growth spurt wracks her in pain. Or one of a billion other childhood milestones pegs her brain awake. And then we find ourselves back in the middle of the night, watching the minutes tick by as her torturous howling continues unabated.

‘This too shall pass,’ is what the knowledgeable, ‘been through it’ parents silently offer, and I do believe it to be true. I just hope for my sanity that it passes soon. And for good.

Although I will say the Man in the Yellow Hat is a wonderful conversationalist, and a great storyteller. Perhaps something good HAS come from our plight.

“Wait, explain this again.  what are you and what are you doing here?” asked the Man in the Yellow Hat, absently playing with the tray table latch.

“I’m a rabbit, and my Dad and I go all around the country visiting people of different cultures and such,” replied Buster, pausing to take a sip from his plastic cup.  “Dad’s a pilot and we normally are flying this random band with an unpronounceable name on their world tour, but Dad said because of some ‘incident’ with Mexican Federal Police we had to fly normal planes for awhile.”

The Man in the Yellow Hat scratched his chin.  “Ok, so you’re a rabbit – that seems fairly obvious.  Let’s put aside for a second that rather than living out your life in a wooden hutch munching hay in someone’s backyard you can talk, walk upright and wear pants. But your Dad is just a normal guy wearing rabbit ears, right?  I mean, you guys really don’t look at all alike.  And what about your friend…what did you say his name was?” he asked.

“This is Arthur.  He’s a muskrat,” Buster said.

“I am not, I’m an aardvark! How long have we been friends?” interjected Arthur, his face twisted in disbelief.  The two started squabbling. The Man in the Yellow Hat sighed, pulled out his clashing iPod Nano (despite repeated requests, Apple would not create a canary colored one, only goldenrod), dialed up the soundtrack to the Jungle Book and tried to drift off to sleep.  With luck this would be a short and uneventful plane ride.

Down below in the cargo hold, George sat with his arms and legs folded in frustration.  FAA regulations don’t allow for monkeys in the main cabin area, and so at the last minute George ended up here, locked in an oversized dog carrier.  He had amused himself the first part of the trip with a “magical pocket sun” the Man in the Yellow Hat had given him until he realized it was just a flashlight.  Now he was hungry – he had seen the Man in the Yellow Hat stuffing MonkeySnacks into his suitcase before they had left. They had to be around here somewhere, he thought.

The dog carrier was designed to keep dogs in, not monkeys with opposable thumbs.  It took him a few tries, but George was able to get the door unlatched and it swung open.  He stepped out into the cargo hold and looked around.  He was surrounded by suitcases and bags of all shapes and colors – they all looked a lot like the suitcase the Man in the Yellow Hat had packed his snacks in.  George would have to go through each of them to find it.

He scampered over to the nearest suitcase and tore it open using his secret monkey claws.  George looked inside and pulled out fuzzy pink bracelets connected by a chain and a stick that he remembered  the farmer using to make the horses go faster. The farmer must be on the plane, he thought – this wasn’t the right bag.  He jumped to the next box which was already partially open.  Inside this box was hundreds of rubber snakes.  Snakes on a plane, George mused.  How predictable.

This was going to take forever – there were just too many.  There must be someway to move all of these suitcases quickly so he could spot the one he was looking for.  He looked around, uttering quizzical monkey noises to no one in particular. He spotted a big red button on the wall.  George remembered the button in the cider mill that he had pressed secretly trying to kill a squirrel hellbent on eating his apple and instead inadvertently bottled several hundred gallons of monkey-tainted cider that later poisoned several thousand unsuspecting consumers.

Maybe this button will be equally as fun, thought George.  He gingerly pushed the button and a green button next to it started to blink.   Hmm, George thought.  He reached and pushed the blinking button.  Suddenly, the back of the room disappeared, and all the suitcases started moving backward and disappearing too!  George quickly resorted to his first inclination in these situations – jumping up and down and shouting “Haiiiiiii!” over and over.

This is usually when the Man in the Yellow Hat arrived and saved the day with a reassuring pat on the head., George thought.  Where was he?  Almost all the suitcases were gone, and he had to hold onto the wall to keep from disappearing himself.  Then a side door opened, and a Man With A Pissed Off Expression appeared.

“Yikes!” he said, slapping the red button George had hit before. The back of the room slowly reappeared.  George was relieved, and ran over to the Man With a Pissed Off Expression and held tightly to his leg.  “Uh-oh” thought George.  In all the excitement he had inadvertently soaked the man’s leg.  He looked up with an embarrassed grin.

The Man with Pissed Off Expression looked down and scowled.  “Why doesn’t this monkey have a damn diaper on?” he asked.

Up in the passenger cabin, the turbulence caused by George’s misadventure had caused pandemonium.  The Man in the Yellow Hat had been jolted out of his slumber by the shaking plane amidst the other passengers screaming, praying,  and Buster’s Dad yelling about a drunken rendezvous with a rabbit in college while holding a fake pair of bunny ears in his hands.  Despite what at the time seemed like imminent death, the Man in the Yellow Hat still found himself smirking a little. After the flight settled and the panic had abated, the captain’s voice came over the loudspeaker.

“Sorry for the bumpy ride ladies and gentleman.  We’re going to have to make an unscheduled landing  here in just a minute.  Apparently a monkey just jettisoned all of your luggage over the Isle of Sodor…”

“GEORGE!” the Man in the Yellow Hat, now oblivious to Buster’s hysterical crying.

- MWF -

“It’sa no problem, I’s have a lots of time after the State Board of Health shutta downa my kitchen,” said the chef, shrugging his shoulders, still wearing the sauce stained apron of his now shuttered restaurant.  The Man in the Yellow Hat took off his hat and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Yeah, I’m really sorry about that.  I had no idea a diaper-less monkey and a cat making stew in a public restaurant violated so many health codes.  I guess we’re just lucky that the food critic didn’t get too seriously ill from the hepatitis B she caught from eating George’s concoction.  From what I understand from grunting and various hand gestures with him, he believed that the boiling water was a magical pot that made anything floppy.”  he said with a chuckle.  “That George…”

“I see.  My-a livelihood lost because-a you let your curious monkey traipse across-a the city to figure-a out how pasta is made, and-a you think it’sa cute,” the Chef said incredulously, angrily twirling his mustache in his fingers.  The Man in the Yellow Hat looked away nervously.  The Chef glared at him, but then his gaze softened.

“Oh-a well, I suppose-a I should be-a getting to my new-a job – I found-a temporary work with-a my cousin – he’s-a plumber.” he said glumly.  The Man in the Yellow Hat put his hand on the Chef’s shoulder.

“Don’t worry Chef, with your stereotypical Italian mannerisms, entire generations of children will grow up assuming that all Italian restaurant chefs look and act like Chef Boyardee, and you’ll be back in the kitchen in no time,” he said.

The Chef brightened a bit.  “That’s-a true. Thank-a you, Man in the’s Yellow Hat.  I’ll be a leaving now, you have-a fun on your-a trip back to the jungle. ,” he said as he headed towards the door, stopping to peer into the bathroom.  “Oh, and-a George appears to be flushing random items down-a your toilet at-a the moment,” he said with a slight grin as he opened the door and left.

“GEORGE!” the Man in the Yellow Hat yelled as he ran into the bathroom just in time to see his wallet disappear down the drain.  George looked at him blankly and then grinned.

“Haaaaiiiiii!  Uh-huh uh-huh uh-huh!” he exclaimed excitedly, prancing about the magic fountain that made things disappear.

“Damn monkey,” the Man in the Yellow Hat muttered under his breath as he picked up the phone and dialed his plumber.  Again.  This was going to be a long trip back to the jungle.

Happy Fatherhood Friday everyone.  This is the first in a series of entries chronicling the adventures of George and the Man in the Yellow Hat as they journey back to the jungle where they first met.  Along the way they may run into a few familiar faces.  Stay tuned…

- MWF -