A little boy will be moving into our house in a couple of days. And into Blue Kid's room.
He'll have a big closet to make a mess of, to fill up with clothes and video games and puzzles and posters and books. And one day, he'll have a spot to hang his ties, his blazers, his prom tuxedo. He'll have a door to slam shut when everything and everyone gets to be just a bit too much.
Until he couldn't stand it anymore, I'd wake up Blue Kid everyday, singing Get up, get outta bed, we'll drag a comb across your head...
Don't know if the Mom who's moving in will think of that. But, she might. And if not, she might think of other things to sing.
I want to think she will.