Intensive purposes

My friend, The Cachinnator, frequently post conversations with his wife. They are always entertaining. Well, I don't actually talk to my wife. But sometimes when I am sitting in mock trial and she is home with the girls, I get to IM with her. It is just like dating - when you have been married for a while, you take things like communication, interaction and information for granted. Only talking through the written word takes it back to how it was in the early stages - limited interaction, limited information, lots of room for miscommunication.
We actually communicate quite well for a couple that has been through 7 addresses, 4 cities, 3 dogs and 2 daughters. So, we were IMing tonight about Carebear. She is in a stage of intervention. She's got the monkey on her back, big time. The last three nights, though, stone-cold clean. No thumb-sucking. This is not an easy fight. She wants to quit. She has for several months, but we knew that unless she was really ready to do it, it wouldn't work. Grandaddy got some sort of nasty tasting nailpolish on Saturday. So they had a big party apparently and everyone, including Grandaddy put on the the putrid polish. Caroline made me taste it. BLECH! So for two nights it was enough to keep her thumb dry. But this morning, she was sucking away. She had built up a tolerance to this awful taste so that she could get her fix. So tonight, again she is crying about how she can't stop but wants to. It is so sad. What we don't want to do, that we do. So, we help her through it. Actually, Cat is helping her through it. The kid kick way too much for all three of us to share a bed. And hopefully this episode of Intervention will end happily in a week or so, I hope. I miss my bed. Good night from the couch...