Danny vs. the Mosquito

It's 9 p.m. on a Thursday.  The kids are in "bed." Every night at this time, we sit down, sometimes for the first time all day. Every night, we really believe that we're done with the kids.

And then we hear the voices.

I need water. (There's water on your bookshelf.)

I itchy. (I've already put your lotion on. Scratch.)

My nose is running. (Get a tissue from the bathroom.)


I need my car. (No. You don't.)

And this Thursday?

There's a fly on me. There's a fly on me, Danny cries.

Jim throws his head back and sighs loudly, then yells from his chair, "Go to sleep."

THERE'S A FLY ON ME.

Jim goes up and looks around. No fly. Danny is up in his bed swatting at the back of his head. Jim checks for ticks. 

Just relax, Danny, Jim says.

Five minutes later ...

THERE'S A FLY ON ME. THERE'S A FLY ON ME. 

Jim goes back up.

Okay, buddy. I'll stay right here and wait for the fly. What were you doing when he showed up?

Reading.

Okay, just keep reading. We'll wait.

Five minutes go by. And then, from the corner of his bed, behind his pillow ...

BUZZZZZZZZZZ. BUZZZZZZZZZ.

And out came a mosquito and headed straight for the back of the kid's head.

WHAP. Jim tapped the back of Danny's head.

The kid wasn't kidding.