20 things I am considering worrying about

It's not that I don't already have a few things that I worry about.

There is the total absence of 'bedtime', the imposition of unwanted gender norms on my little guys, toxins in our foods, an upcoming 4th birthday party that I have to design and host so that it will be memorable, enjoyable and socially acceptable with all kinds of unfamiliar rules and expectations, and...I could go on.

But why not have a list of things I could worry about, should I feel the need to expand my worrying horizons? I'm not one to turn away from new opportunities. These are all things I am not quite worried about, yet, but I occasionally consider that they might have some worry merit, or, in some cases, I sometimes remember that they are probably deserving of worry, but then I forget, or get too freaked out, or realize that it's futile.

Anyways, in no particular order:

1) I have to have a killer PhD proposal ready by November in order to apply for the scholarship I covet. Getting it is the only way that I will go ahead with actually doing a PhD. And I still don't have a tiny little idea for a topic.

2) The 500-page book on Latin American social and political theory that I am translating (what was I thinking?) is due in October. And yeah, things aren't exactly zooming along.

3) I need friends. Here in Macondo, if at all possible, and it's not looking very promising.

4) It might be five years before Macondo Papa and I can go out for dinner, go for a walk, read Le Monde Diplomatique to each other or make an uninterrupted comment.

5) We may never find a babysitter.

6) My wrinkles. Ack! I can't believe I even said that.

7) The Monster is almost 4 and still takes almost 2 hours to fall asleep every night. With us lying in bed with him, motionless, in the dark. Is this insomnia? Is this a sign of something bigger that he needs our help with?

8) The Monster's difficulties with adapting to change. See #9-11.

9) The Monster's occasional stutter (currently non-existent, but at times quite prominent).

10) The Monster's fingers in his mouth, all the time or not so much, depending on... I only wish I could figure out what.

11) The Monster's obsession with certain clothing items, which comes and goes, and  can take on extreme proportions, depending on... I only wish I could figure out what.

The socks have to be pulled all the way up, always, or no other shirt but that specific shirt must be worn, every day, no matter what, or wearing a sweatshirt would clearly be equivalent to torturing him with unspeakable techniques. OR he's perfectly agreeable to whatever clothes you offer him, or easily makes a choice between the climate-appropriate options you present.

12) The Monkey may soon have the same size feet as the Monster, and we might actually have to buy him some shoes instead of having an abundance of hand-me-down options.

13) The Monkey may never outgrow hitting. Is all this aggression just age-appropriate testing of limits and learning how to be an acceptable human, or might I be raising a sociopath?

14) The Monkey's daycare situation is still unresolved. For three weeks now, either Macondo Papa or I have been staying with him (often just out of sight) all morning long. And now we are considering starting the adaptation phase all over again at a different daycare. We're not getting a whole lot of other things done.

And this, lest you not realize what I'm dealing with here, is in Macondo, where Every Single Bill you might want to pay means standing in line at the corresponding service provider along with the rest of the world., praying that the power won't go out, the 'system' won't go 'down', they haven't decided to stop accepting, say, money, or some other impediment won't render your entire morning wasted, again. And oh yeah, see #2

15) This. Ewwwww. Luckily, my kids just play with a few stainless steel cups in the bath, and the occasional stray plastic dinosaur that does not normally live in the bathroom. So I have just started washing the cups when I shower, and all is well.

What should possibly worry me more is the actual bathtub they use, which is a little plastic baby tub. Despite air-drying and occasional washing, it is probably a really cozy home to lots of icky stuff I'd rather not know about.

(Re-reading this, I feel like it misrepresents me as a very clean person, which I am not. Which is why I am not including a picture of our bathtub in its natural habitat.)

16) My kids have already outgrown their bathtub, and still occasionally insist on having baths together. There is no foreseeable solution to this, other than getting used to showering. But, they don't seem to mind the squishiness, and absolutely love how easy it is to make the water overflow all over the bathroom floor.

17) My kids' swearing. I don't really worry about this, but I'm throwing it in there to maybe seem like an appropriately concerned parent.

18) The absence of school choices we can feel really good about. We'd prefer public, but that isn't even an option until next year for the Monster, and it also has its issues. And the private alternatives have most of the same issues - conservative values, ridiculous traditional methods and routines, huge classes, tiny classrooms - along with the added perk of atrocious and expensive uniforms.

19) Dengue fever. There was an outbreak here last year, and so it is entirely possible that there will be another one this year, or next. Most certainly, there will be outbreaks eventually. I have already had Dengue, AND IT SUCKS. It is Terrible. I was hit quite hard, and I was alone, literally alone, all by myself, in a little hut on an island in Nicaragua, hallucinating with fever and pain for days and days.

The thought of my kids getting Dengue FREAKS ME OUT. And, since I have already had it, I am now vulnerable to the hemorrhagic form (did you hear that? the hemorrhagic form!), with lovely symptoms like bleeding gums and eyballs and DEATH.

I am just going to take a few deep breaths now, and continue on with my list.

20) Our exposure to DEET and other anti-mosquito necessities. We try to minimize this - repellent on the clothes instead of our skin, good ventilation, and so on - but we are definitely exposed to more of this than I would like. And my kids are still so young. But, see #19.

Okay, I think that's enough for now. I have a book to translate and a PhD proposal to wish into existence.

(By the way, I don't actually recommend writing lists like this one. I thought it was a cute, amusing little idea at first, but now it seems more like a good way to pepper your week with worry, even if you started out just fine. Lesson learned.)

Bilingual language development at 18 months

Our one-and-a-half year old Monkey is talking! A lot!

His language skills are developing and changing so quickly that I have to write this now, or by next week he might be speaking in full sentences before I ever got to write about the first time he put two words together.

At sixteen months he already had a couple dozen words in Spanish and English and was starting to pick up new ones with increasing ease. But now, it's hard to keep track, and is starting to seem kind of silly, as the list gets longer and longer. I've included it below, but, of course, you have to imagine it all with the huge cuteness factor that word lists don't really transmit so well.

Aside from his mushrooming vocabulary though, there's lots more to say about how he is becoming a bilingual little talker.**

He has started saying some things in both Spanish and English. Like 'all done!' and '¡ya está!'

Before, he had some words in English, and others in Spanish. Agua and cheese, for example. He now has a whole bunch of words that he knows in both languages. In most cases, he started saying the Spanish one first, and then started using the English one later.

- turtle / tortuga
- shoe / zapato
- noom (moon) / luna 
- bum-bum / cola, culo
- bad / malo 
- booby / teta
- horsey / caballo
- more / más
- bye-bye / chau
- hand / mano 
- pee-pee / pis

So far, he doesn't seem to distinguish between who speaks to him in Spanish and who speaks to him in English. I think he says whichever version of the word that he heard most recently, but will then switch to the other if we do.

He is starting to go to daycare in the mornings now (an entire saga I will eventually write about, complete with turtles, electrical hazards, AWOL teachers, trying to convince school directors that our 1.5-year-old is actually a 2-year-old in disguise (without coming across as obnoxious and ridiculous, of course), and a whole whack of parental indecision and waffling).

Anyways, now that his mornings will be infused with Spanish songs and rhymes and stories (we would hope), I will have to be sure to step up the English here at home. I read somewhere that kids need at least 25% of their time to be in direct communication in a given language in order to be able to use the language themselves, form their own sentences, and so on. I don't really love the idea of calculating our time together in percentages, much less measuring our "stimulating, language-exposure, language-learning time", but it is something to worry about keep in mind.

He is excellent at imitating sounds and copying words. Like 'calculator', 'chiquitito', 'Papi's sleeping' and fairly convincing actual birdcalls. I don't include them as part of his vocabulary until he uses them all on his own, but it is really quite impressive.

He seems to have a special ear for 'bad' words. Including, especially, 'bad', but also 'culo' (ass) and 'boludo' (general insult, or 'man' - as in 'no way, man' - depending on the context).

This should be no surprise, I guess, given the extensive use of profanities in Argentinian Spanish. When I say extensive, I mean really, really extensive. And no attempts to limit their use around kids. Not even the really nasty ones. And so kids swear too.

He seems to say 'boludo' for the laugh factor he gets from his brother. For weeks, we weren't really sure if that's what he was saying or not, but now it's undeniable.

He usually says 'bum-bum' or the Spanish equivalent, 'cola', but 'culo' is also lurking there in his vocabulary.

'Bad' is, for me, the worst of the bunch. He says it in Spanish too - 'malo'. Thanks big brother. (He also already knows what candies and lollipops are. You just can't be as wholesome with the younger siblings. The older ones will be sure to foil all attempts.)

We don't use the word 'bad' in this house (we're not the only ones), and we were not pleased at all when the Monster brought it home when he was three and a half. The Monkey is just 18 months and already applies it exactly as his brother's friends intended it: he yells it at us when he has to share or wants to play with the cell phone or isn't allowed to hit me on the head with a wooden train. Not cool.

He clusters concepts into one word, and then starts to learn to distinguish them with new words. This is fascinating to watch.

He first said 'se cortó' to remark that the power had gone out, which is the correct use of the term. He then started to apply it to a whole cluster of 'endings': lights going off, fans stopping, an apple falling, a story ending, a paper tearing, a toy breaking. He has since learned 'off' for the light when it isn't related to a power outage, but for all the others he still relies on 'se cortó'.

He started saying 'ach' as an invented word to mean 'open this'. Its use then extended to 'take out' this toy from the container, 'take off' this shirt, 'turn on' the computer, etc. He has since learned 'open' for doors and containers, but uses 'ach' for all the others.

He uses the term 'maté' not only to name all of our maté-related paraphernalia (kettle, thermos, yerba, bombilla and the maté itself), but also to say 'food', 'hungry', 'eat'. He is sticking with this term and doesn't want to use any others.

He is starting to string two words together. I try to differentiate between two words that express one concept - like 'good night' and 'all done' - and the real connecting of two different words to communicate additional information. So far, we have:

- quiero agua (I want water)
- es mío (it's mine)

Here is the big list of his vocabulary so far. It's grown quite a lot since the first list, two months ago.

FOOD & TABLE STUFF
silla (chair)
yogurt
apple (used for all fruit)
down
up
all done, ya está
now
quiero agua (I want water)
more, más
pan (bread)
bubbles

TROUBLE!
yo (me)
mío (mine)
dame (give it to me)
no
bad, malo
boludo (general insult, or not, depending on context - see above)

PEOPLE
Papi
[Monster]
+ the mother and daughter pair of our closest family friends

ANIMAL STUFF
horsey, caballo
cow
'pider, araña
bug
monkey
gorilla
turtle, tortuga
pio-pio (bird)
doggy
pato (duck)
fishy

BODY & CLOTHING STUFF
itchy
eye
mouth
bum-bum, cola, culo
pito (penis)
pee pee, pis
shoes, zapatos
shorts
hand, mano
bathy

OTHERS
car
home 
acá (here)
allá (there)
se cortó (see above)
yay, wow
help
open
luz (light)
off
sucio (dirty)
noom (moon), luna
good night
balloon

**I will write more, eventually, about our "approach" to bilingualism, but basically, I am the kids' only source of English, along with lots of books, and web-camming with family and friends back in Canada. I always speak to them in English (with a few exceptions in public), but I speak to Macondo Papa in Spanish.

All in good time

Every day for the past week or so, at some point in the day, I have remembered that we rented a DVD with the ridiculously optimistic idea of actually watching it, eventually. I didn't even know what movie it was - Macondo Papa picked it out - just that it was for grown-ups, and that it was already one, two, three, four days overdue.

Every night over dinner, one of us reminds the other, with an eager smile:

Let's do the m-o-v-i-e tonight.

Speak too openly, and the Monster will get the crazy idea that he gets to watch Kirikou ride around on a giraffe, again.

Anyways, then there's dessert, a few minutes to enjoy the only time of the day when the kids play nicely together, growling and roaring and chasing each other around the house. It's 10pm. This is Argentina time.

We start quieting down, brushing teeth, picking stories, separating the kids.

I wrestle with Monkey in a drawn-out process of reading, nursing, running away, cuddling, singing, nursing, running away, lying down on the floor, running away, nursing, lying down on the bed, nursing, nursing, nursing, falling asleep. We both fall asleep.

Macondo Papa is holding his own with Monster, reading a story in an increasingly drawn-out, monotonous voice, stopping for some deep breaths, gently insisting he keep still, turning off the lights, singing a song, gently insisting he keep still, not-so-gently insisting he keep still, and so on.

One and a half to two hours later, Macondo Papa and I stumble blearily towards each other, alternatingly either half asleep or pissed off that so much of our time is spent keeping still in dark rooms trying to get our kids to sleep.

Oh, and the m-o-v-i-e? It's either forgotten, or postponed until tomorrow, in the name of sleep. Again.

Well, I am happy to report that after 9 days of our overdue m-o-v-i-e sitting in its case, we watched it! And it was a good movie - Leonera - though not easy to watch.

Doesn't it feel just so great to watch a good movie every now and then?

Eighteen months of Monkey

Monkey is 18 months old (and two days). A year and a half. And he is one amazing little dude, if I do say so myself.

Unlike his brother at this age, he is not obedient, shy, cautious, gentle, a complicated eater, or apparently anywhere close to weaning. Like his brother, he is observant, playful, affectionate and hilarious.

He is a daring, coordinated and stubborn little monkey, who climbs up the big kids' slides and throws himself down head first.

He is a tough and persistent torturer of his brother, able to understand all manner of complicated instructions and explanations, but not 'no hitting', 'no pinching', 'no pushing', 'no bashing your brother with that hockey stick'. But - he is good at following up with hugs and kisses and gentle strokes.

He is a darling. He waves and blows kisses with abandon. He will whisper secrets in your ear upon request. While nursing, even half asleep, he will grin or giggle when he hears his brother laugh. He sometimes pulls off my breast to grab my head, pull it towards him and give me a big kiss before settling back to nurse.

He sweats profusely, especially from his elbows and forearms, which is weird. He has my itchy and rashy skin, and my tendency to scratch and pick. Poor monkey.

As of just a few days ago, his mind and body have been taken over by an overpowering need to continually wash his hands and play with soap and toothbrushes. He seems to need it as much as he needed to practice walking: All.The.Time. As if there were a hard-wired, biological hand-washing imperative.

He also loves lids, books, whatever his brother is playing with, riding toys, balls, shoes and excitedly pointing out all the spider webs he can see from his special toddler vantage point. He takes this job very seriously.

He has advanced tantrum-throwing skills for his age. And a strong little body to match.

His language skills are in the exponentially-exploding phase. We are starting to lose track of all his new vocabulary. I will post soon on the many fascinating aspects of his language development, including his bilingualism, his love of animals and his ability to learn profanities faster than anything else.

He is a singing and dancing, groovy little guy. He loves to shout 'GOAL!' in Spanish, with both arms in the air. And he celebrates the things that give him joy with enthusiastic and contagious shouts of yay, wow and yum. He loves to beat his chest like a gorilla.

Happy half birthday, little monkey. Kazoodles of love.

Clitoris fruit and International Women's Day in Argentina

Far away in my quiet little town, I wish for a feminist mother's group I could join, or feminist moms I could befriend, while I smile and share some clitoris fruit from International Women's Day activities in Buenos Aires.

Thanks to Desobediencia y Felicidad for their struggle, their creativity, and for the pics.

Our first week of school

We've survived our first week of junior kindergarten and daycare. It's an 8:45 to noon thing, plus driving time. If we had chosen afternoons instead of mornings, it would have been from 4:45 to 8pm. I wasn't exaggerating about the Argentina-time thing.

I'll have to write about the "beloved" guardapolvo culture here soon (the smocks the kids and their teachers wear over their clothes). It's quite a topic.

Anyways, some highlights:

1) The Monster has decided to replace his favourite game of We are Carnivores: Let's Hunt and Growl, with waving his pistol-hand around and going pchooo, pchooo (or however you write that).

-- Thank you, kindergarten friends exposed to nasty stuff. Should I forbid this, ridicule it, ignore it, subvert it? How how how? (I kind of do the last 3, though I really just want to do the first.)

2) The Monster has decided he does not play with girls. It would be like a pig being friends with a frog, you know.

-- Thank you, gender-obsessed world out there. Again: Should I forbid this, ridicule it, ignore it, subvert it? How how how?**

(I'm happy to say, though, that the very next day he asked me to tie on a scarf as a skirt, put a clip in his hair, and play some music so he could do some ballet dancing. I also assume, though, that it's just a matter of time before he learns that this kind of behaviour is girly, and therefore totally uncool.)

3) The Monster and the Monkey have snotty noses and wheezy coughs.

-- Thank you, germs that stalk my children. I can forego a(nother) week of sleep. Sure.

4) And both kids are quite happy.

-- Thank you, universe.

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** I am seething with revolt at an article in today's Página/12 (Spanish) about the new trend of girl-only birthday party venues, totally pink- and purple-ified, complete with make-overs and spa options. PEEYUUUKE! One owner shared her valuable insight:

Plus, the moms like to see their girls being quiet, pretty, not running all over the place and destroying the house.

It's just so, so, so... wrooooooooong! It kind of makes me feel like a frog living with a whole bunch of pigs. And I don't want my kids to start oinking. But I don't know how to prevent it. Ribbiting isn't likely to work. You know what I mean?

Save the Association for Research on Mothering

The Association for Research on Mothering (ARM) is a wonderful research centre (at my old stomping ground) that is about to close.

Instead of delaying this post while I try to put together a strong argument about why its work is sooooo important and how devastating funding cuts are to small research centres that aren't focused on more 'profitable' issues, I will point you to this post by Blue Milk with 3 ways to help.

ARM rocks. Let's try to stop their closure.

6 random things you might not already know about Argentina

I have not done the research to figure out if these are unique to Argentina, or if some or all are common in other parts of Latin America. Probably.

Anyways, here goes a list that will not include all the usual tango, maté, soccer, gaucho, asado, plastic surgery, blah blah blah.

1. Instead of knocking or ringing the (often non-existent) doorbell, people stand outside and clap loudly a few times. They don't call out hellooo? or its Spanish equivalent. This is only really true outside of the big cities (it obviously doesn't work very well with apartment buildings).

2. If you want to sell your car, you put a bottle of water on the roof of the car whenever you park it anywhere. If anyone is interested, they can come and clap for you. Why not a 'for sale' sign? Well, why not a bottle of water on the roof?

3. Bidets are standard bathroom gear here. When I say standard, I mean that even gas station bathrooms have them. In addition to their obvious uses, they are really handy washers of dirty little feet, and pretty wonderful toddler-sized sinks (and fountains).

4. The 'come here' gesture is a more contained version of my 'go away' gesture: palm facing outward and then flopping forward one or more times. I know this is true for all of Latin America, along with a tendency to hiss or go 'tchh, tchh' instead of saying 'hey' to get someone's attention.

5. The friendly or polite way to acknowledge an unknown passerby is not with my standard, toothless almost-smile, to then quickly look away. Instead, you mutter some kind of greeting - hello or good afternoon or bye - and then look away, or not. (I still have to consciously remind myself of this one all the time. I often find myself doing my almost-smile thingy, and then they often say hello, and then it seems like I wasn't going to say it, because they already caught me looking at them and sort-of-smiling and looking away.)

6. It is very, very close to impossible to find a mini kid-sized backpack that does not have one of the top 10 commercial characters plastered all over it (barbie, ben10, disney stuff and whatever else). Needless to say, all divided between pink for the girls and anything else for the boys. Same goes for toothbrushes, stickers, pencil cases and more. This means 3 things: I am still looking for a backpack for the monkey; I must stop judging all the parents who buy such crap for their kids; and entering shops often puts me in a really bad mood.

Questions?

In which we narrowly escape buying girl things for a boy - shopkeeper to the rescue!

Me: I'd like to order the full list of school supplies for my kid in junior kindergarten at [XYZ] school. I can pick it up tomorrow morning.

Her: Sure, let me just check if we have a set ready and you can take it now. For a boy or a girl?

Me: A boy, but that doesn't matter, I'll take a girl one if you've got it ready.

Her: [after checking] We only have a girl one ready, so I'll prepare one for you for tomorrow.

Me: I really don't mind. We don't care about that stuff. What is the difference? Will his teacher really care?

Her: Don't worry, I'll have it for you tomorrow.

Me: No, really, just give me the girl one. It's fine.

Her: Don't worry, señora, it will be ready tomorrow.

Me: No, that's OK. I'll take the girl one.

Her: Don't worry, señora, it will be ready tomorrow.

It was as if I could not possibly be saying what I was saying. La la la la la - I can't hear you.

It's a good thing the monster has shopkeepers and kindergarten teachers everywhere working hard to ensure nothing pink or fairy-like ever come anywhere near him. And, of course, that girls have access to nothing but.

Phew, that was a close one.

I'm not sure how much or for how long I would have had to insist, to actually be allowed to purchase the forbidden girl supplies. I'm not sure if I gave up because the monkey was restless and I had to go, or because I am not entirely convinced that the monster will be okay with me making my point at his expense (and for his sake).

----------

On Tuesday, the monster started kindergarten and the monkey started daycare. Back to school.

This means things to buy, routines out-of-whack, and not much work getting done by this supposedly working-at-home mom. And, of course, renewed contact with that world out there that seems to want my kids to play with swords and eat cheesies and scorn girly things.

It also means kids getting bigger, milestones to mark, and, eventually, bits and pieces of alone time for me.

Which comes down to this: content for my blog. Eventually.

Routines in Macondo

It's not that I've got this home-making thing all figured out, or anything. Or that my kids have started entertaining themselves with stimulating, crafty activities while I make any progress at all on drafting a PhD proposal (or even, say, go to the bathroom by myself).

Don't get me wrong.

But I'm starting to get a few little things to feel like they're working. It's about time, really - I've been here for almost a year now. And like the quirks of language acquisition I observe in my kids, the routines I am most aware of here reveal a lot about our lifestyle. 

Beach play. And blackouts.

Living so close to the beach, I was pretty happy when I had finally worked out a decent routine for getting the two kids ready and out the door for some beach time in less than...an hour.

No small feat! It only took about a year of trial and error and pulling my hair out and pleading with my kids.

It's true that Macondo Papa can pull it all off in about half the time, but this inevitably means no spare diaper, screwing the snacks, forgetting the favourite toys and depending on MY pre-packed beach bag.

However, our dealing-with-power-outage prowess is a shared accomplishment, and it requires a lot of teamwork. This, too, took some time. Many a blackout has included fumbling around for flashlights, matches, candles, surfaces for candles, and so on. Oh, and usually a screaming kid or two at some point.

Daytime power outages can also be very challenging, but our most recent nighttime blackout bears recounting. It lasted from about 9pm to 2am, with a comfortable outside temperature of 40°C.

The kids were playing, and we were getting dinner ready. (Yes, we have dinner at 9pm). We saw a few flashes of lightning and then...we saw nothing. (¡Se cortó!)

Macondo Papa was closest to the kids, so he stumbles towards them both, scooping them up and establishing the excited 'yay! it's a power outage and everything is fine' tone for the evening.

I head for the Beloved Blackout Basket, now finally well-stocked with tea candles, long candles, flashlights, a lighter and old plates we use as candle holders.

With basic lighting in place, we quickly debate the pros and cons of opening the windows. It's hotter outside, but as the storm picks up, there is a bit of (hot) wind. Moving air feels like a good thing, so we open up.

While Macondo Papa gets dinner on the table, I move toys and shoes and bits and pieces of clothing away from all the windows, as the rain quickly starts to spray through our screens and form puddles on the floor.

We light a few more candles and sit down for dinner. The storm outside rages. We watch the light show as the rain sprinkles us and our dinner. We talk about how a long time ago, there was no electricity and people always used candles at nighttime. The monster adds: yeah, and telephones with cords.

We cover the kids in generous helpings of cornstarch.

We bring the monster's mattress into our room, and I nurse the monkey down while the monster gets his story and takes the usual forever to fall asleep.

The temperature starts to rise. The rain slows to a trickle and the wind dies down. It is very h.o.t.

Macondo Papa and I lay a few towels on the various puddles around the house and try to remember which lights and fans we need to turn off. Have I mentioned that it was hot? Stifling, in fact.

We light our gorgeous new citronella burner (those mosquitoes love themselves a good blackout) and then collapse, as spread out as possible, into our bed. We occasionally touch each other with a finger tip, so as to say "good night, I love you, but no way am I going to touch you."

The temperature goes up and up, the kids stir in their sleep. I concentrate on finding an elbow I can unfold a bit more or a part of neck to extend further, to feel just the slightest of breezes actually move a bit of air over an additional millimetre of my skin. It is hot, hot, hot.

PLEASE KIDS, DO NOT WAKE UP. Please. Please. Puhhh-leeeeeeease.

Two hours in bed, fully stretched out, remembering to breathe -- this too shall pass, I have given birth to two kids, I survived dengue fever all by myself in the middle of nowhere, I can handle this, this too shall pass... and ...

Flash! The lights we had forgotten about brighten the room, the whir of the fans breathes some movement back into the air, and we quickly turn off the lights, blow out our little citronella burner, and drift off to sleep, cuddling with more than just our fingertips.