The Miracle of Sleep Deprivation

As a parent of five children, I am an undisputed expert in the topic of sleep deprivation, as I, personally, have been chronically sleep deprived, to varying degrees, for the last sixteen years.

In fact, I'm kind of getting used to it. Or perhaps I'm not as bad off as I used to be, because it's been a while since I've done any of these kinds of freaky things:

1) Walking through a doorway carrying a baby, but neglecting to anticipate the amount of clearance required for the baby's head to make it through. Whack. (In fact, I think this may even have happened to more than one baby. You know what they say about history repeating itself. Also, in hindsight, that explains a lot of things about my children that I've always wondered about...)

2) Reading bedtime stories to the children when your brain veers off, starts spouting random stream-of-consciousness stuff, and you aren't even aware that you're doing it. You think you're still reading the story.

3) Turning on the water in the kitchen sink to wash the dishes. Walking to your bedroom for some unknown reason, and sitting down. Opening your eyes, and seeing ceiling. "Ceiling?", you say to yourself. "Am I lying down?" Getting up from your unscheduled nap to walk back into the kitchen to discover that the water is still running. The suds from the sink are now in the far corner of the kitchen, and the kitchen floor is holding an astounding amount of water for a flat surface. Walk down to the basement to discover that you've turned it into a magical tropical rainforest. Say really bad words repeatedly.

I'm trying to recall what it was that got me going on this topic.

But I can't remember.

Too tired.