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My wife's book club met here last night, so she spent pretty much the whole day cleaning the house.

[Alright, in the interest of truth, I'll point out that this is only one of my wife's two book clubs. The one last night was the one from church. The one that met the night before that (!) was a new neighborhood club, at which my wife and her friend Kelly are by far the junior members. By something along the lines of 30 years.]

Anyway, as part of her tornado of cleanliness my wife put new sheets on everyone's bed. This included the new flannel sheets for Timothy and Stephen's bed, which had been purchased a week or so before, and about which Timothy had asked approximately 30 times. So he was happy when they got put on.

So happy, in fact, that when he got home from school he pulled the covers back, got in and read. Then he played his new Gameboy. Then he read some more. All snug and secure in his new flannel sheets.

Of course, this meant that the bed that my wife had carefully made up hours in advance of her friends coming over was now messed up. So she let him have it.

Jonah had messed up his bed, too, by getting into it after it had been made up. But he was sick, so he didn't get hollered at.

Nonetheless, this did not dampen Timothy's enthusiasm for his new sheets. When we got home (my wife made me take the boys out to dinner; please don't throw me in the brier patch!) and the time came to put them to bed, he very excitedly pointed out how warm and comfy they are. I was very happy for him.

Please note: my wife also put flannel sheets on our bed, so all is now right with the world.