Different perspectives on how tonight went:
Brian's version: Evan had a rough night, I think he was a little over tired today. He wasn't happy about anything related to the night time routine. He screamed and tussled with me while trying to floss, brush his teeth, change his diaper and get his pajamas on. He finally settled in, but wanted Mom to put him to sleep. He settled down pretty well with Mom, thank goodness.
Evan's version: Tonight is the 902nd day of my existence as prisoner. Tonight, my chief captor, the one they call "Daddy", combined sleep deprivation with some sort of rope torture, I think he was attempting to tie one end to one of my teeth so he could pull it out. I managed to successfully maneuver until he obviously became frustrated and gave up. These small victories are all that keep me going. Since he was unsuccessful in the rope technique, he proceeded to stuff a bristle covered with some sort of concoction - poison, I am sure, into my mouth. Despite my struggling, he was able to get in my mouth with difficulty, but I believe that I was successful in managing to spit it all out before it took its toll. It was gratifying to see that I managed to spit it on his shirt as well, especially in his eye, which caused him to call out in surprise and alarm. He took a break before the next round of torture and I was able to steel my resolve for what was to come. Next, he removed what little dignity I had and exposed me while he rubbed a cloth on me with some sort of liquid embedded in it . I attempted to keep what was left of my composure while he rubbed some sort of cream on my posterior and wrapped me with some sort of mummy wrappings. I'm sure that if I hadn't struggled and forced him to start over several times, he would have completed his attempt to embalm me and force me into the mummy bandages alive. Instead, he satisfied himself with forcing me into my one piece prison jumper, complete with textured footing to allow me to some sort of traction when I will attempt to escape his clutches tomorrow. As my will began to drain from me and I was about to give up, this evening's session ended as he marched me down the darkened stairs to the clutches of the female captor, the nicer of the two, the one they call "Mommy". Under her tender care, I regained my resolve and had a moment to reflect upon the peace of the evening. I believe I must be going through some sort of "Stockholm Syndrome", in which I feel genuine affection for the one they call Mommy. I was returned to my cell and my indoctrination continued with the repetition of books including the most popular types of transportation, acceptable feet types, and a story regarding a caterpillar that overindulges on various types of food, furthering their attempts to make my diet that includes vegetables more palatable. Exhausted, I was returned to my small bed in the corner of my cell where the toll of the day and waves of exhaustion slipped me into slumber. I can only hope tomorrow does not bring another of episode of water boarding with deliberate attempts to pour shampoo into my eyes...
