What happens when you give your baby espresso

...on accident. I swear.

I love coffee even though I can't really drink it. In college I could down gallons of the stuff and still fall asleep during class, but these days I don't know what my problem is, half a cup in the afternoon and I'm so chipper, I can't decide whether to paint my toenails, fry tofu, or vacuum the baseboards, so I try to do all three at the same time.

Liz was a doll of a sister yesterday and brought me a super yummy espresso drink of some kind. I sipped at it as much as I dared before I set it on the table and forgot about it. Folly. Total and completely folly.

Charlie was up the entire night and I didn't figure out it had been Mr. Charlie, In the Kitchen, with the murder weapon...my Coffee, until 2 am this morning. I was delusionally trying to cuddle him back to sleep and thinking about how yummy his pajamas smelled. It took me a little while to realize that pajamas and babies were not supposed to smell like vanilla beans and coffee. Once the full reality of an 18 month old on coffee dawned on me. I gave up even trying to get him to settle down. So he spent most of the night dancing in the moonlight on our bed. (I'm not even sure if there was moonlight, but other than that, it's an accurate picture). He laughed. He sang. He babbled my ear off and spent ages tracing weird shapes on my face. In my incoherency I told Jim that Charlie must be drawing equations on my face. That's right, my child is a math genius in some sort of alien world I'm sure.