This is actually the movie we were supposed to watch. Not “The Lost Island”, but this, a comedy. How did I confuse the two? Well, I was too lazy to leave my bed office to find the DVD and the correct title, so I Googled Andy Garcia and his bloody darn movies and got Lost instead of City, didn’t even see City, and who knew Andy Garcia would be in 2 movies with the word City in them, anyway? But since we didn’t watch the movie, who cares? I HAVE NO OPINION TO GIVE. Now it is Sunday and we still have not watched the movie and will probably return it to Redbox unwatched. We did, however, get more sleep than usual—which for some reason is making us more tired. The good news is that the toddler has taken to weaning like a—root to water? Cat to tuna? Like a Mama to her imagined BMW? Although last night, as Mama slept the sleep of drugged horses, my husband (working at the living room table) “felt” a presence behind him. He turned around and there was our son staring at him, holding his blanket and blue glow stick. “OH MY GOD,” my husband reacted. The toddler promptly cried, scared by his dad scared by him and had to be soothed back to sleep. Usually the toddler does not wake up in the middle of the night and when he does, I am very aware of any waking. However, I missed my husband’s cry of fear and the toddler’s wounded cry, which is very unlike me and a little disturbing—because I am a mother, NOT AN ISLAND. I close this scintillating Sunday post with these vital statements: