"I can't believe they let you teach."

Anakin was wiped out. The feeling of foreboding he'd had for the last few days hadn't gone away and was not being helped at all by adding a hangover and a hefty dose of portal-lag into the mix.

Nothing was going to keep him from the wedding, though. He let himself into the room and wondered if he'd be able to catch a nap before the rehearsal.

[OOC: In a shocking change for them, this is going NSFW.]

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...]