The family and I are in Slovenia for a couple of weeks, and as I sometimes do while traveling, I revisit a Sundays Are For Sebastian. This comes from exactly eleven years ago when Seba was five.
Sebastian is my five-year-old and he says some of the funniest things–we have no idea where he gets his material since his mother and I are rather boring, serious people.
Sebastian was extremely tired the other night, but would not/could not go to bed. We tried everything: read him a book, sang him a song, pleaded with him, got angry with him. Finally, my exasperated wife blurted out: “If you do not get to bed and go to sleep, I’m going to…eat the donut I bought you for breakfast!”
There was no other sound.
Other than me running out to get some donuts.
the drunken cyclist 
Beautiful
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