Tyson-in-the-box

Okay, technically he's not "in" the box but, Tyson-"on"-the-box just doesn't have the same feel!
Here is a quick story of a not-so-fun adventure we had just after we arrived.

We had been in India about 3 weeks and one night we came home around 9pm after having dinner and as we got to the front door Richard realized he left the keys at the restaurant. Where's that darn hide-a-key when you need it! So there we all stand, in the sweltering heat (oh yes, it was still blistering hot at 9pm) wondering what the heck to do, with Tyson sawing zz's like there's no tomorrow in my arms. So Richard started making phone calls. Finally he gets the number for the restaurant and begins to make one of several frantic telephone calls; "I said keys, not bees!" "No, I don't need a table, please check under the table for my keys!". "Let me speak to anyone that speaks English PLEASE!" Anyway, after 2 phone calls and at least 3 different people, they located the keys and sent them by taxi to the Embassy. In the meantime besides wanting to strangle a certain person who shall remain nameless (RICHARD), I had to set Tyson down because my arms and back were screamin for mercy. But the only place to set him down was on the ground (Uh, I don't think so!) or a large box just outside our house. Earlier that day the boxes had contained a small amount of household goods shipped in our "fast" shipment and were outside the house waiting to be taken to the trash. So, I laid him on the box and there we sit, no actually we stood, and stood and stood some more, on the empty compound street at 10 o'clock at night with Tyson asleep on a box. Every few minutes I had to flip off a bug or an ant, curiously checking him over, but you'll be happy to know, after this tragic story, he suffered no long term effects from his night on the box!
(Richard either!)

Notice the dirty footsies!

Daddy, please don't make me sleep on a box again!