33 Apocalypse Avenue [mid-morning]

A very small boy with a bucket over his head--thanks for that, Friday's toy chest--toddled down the hallway and made his way down the stairs.

Bounce-bounce-bounce.

Rear ends are great for that.

He made his way into the kitchen and leaned up onto his tiptoes to reach the cereal--something bright with incomprehensible writing on the side--and tipped about half of it onto the floor.

Exasperated, he lifted the bucket off of his eyes to see. Bright blue eyes gazed around the room and settled on the telephone.

Ooooh. He could call all of his friends!

Or punch random numbers and leave messages...which is what a four-year-old is much more inclined to do...

[OOC: Open for housemates and friends who know who this is. Radio squirrels--buckethead kid doesn't have a name...]

33 Apocalpyse Avenue, Vader's room [bedtime for Dark Lords and NFB]

The boy with the bucket on his had had a Very Busy Day.

People had stopped by and there had been lightsaber battles and puppy playing and only a little bit of a mess and he had had sooooo much fun.

So it was No Fair At All that Lukey was trying to get him to go to bed.

He stomped his weetiny foot on the ground and glared up at him. "I'm not tired," he said.