I'll Sleep When I'm Dead. . .

. . . but tonight I will write.

When I send Hannah - my 3 year old - back to her bed for the fourth time, I can't but relate to her. It is hard giving up this consciousness when you have a restless mind. It's strange the small things you'd never thought you would give somebody.

It is weird to see my ways stamped on to my children. The way that Ava gets nervous in crowds, the way that Hannah can spin anything into a positive. But what is most rewarding is seeing the things that are uniquely-them. The way Hannah can start a conversation with anyone, the way that Ava makes sure her blocks are perfectly aligned when she is "Buildin' a casle, daddy."

Speaking of castles (of sorts) the children's outside play center is coming a long nicely. I have successfully (with the help of my Dad) moved all the 'tube sections' in to my backyard and now clearly have a plan together. It is going to be so sweet. Thanks to my wife for trusting me, I am teaching her how to take creative risks.

Project home theater is right on track as well. I tried to get a new projector this weekend, but it looks like better deals are to be-had online. But much thanks to me mum for watching my chitlens as I ventured from store to store in search for one. I did get a few things off the list, however:
Surround sound, check!
Projector mount, check!
Room re-layout, check!

There is a sect of Greek mythology that personified Sleep and Death, as brothers in fact. I think that is the coolest thing. This means that in leaving this post I can say, "I have to leave here, for I have a date with the brother of death." Brother of Death is also a great band name for those out there in need of one.