It was late.
This silly insomnia has held me to a maximum of 4 hours of sleep per night for way too many in a row.
I tiptoe into the bedroom and rejoice in our new flannel sheets as I hunker down for the first few minutes of what promises to be many more long a.w.a.k.e minutes.
Suddenly Mr. Daddy jerks.
And my first thought is that he’s reacting to a sound that means: “Get up – there’s someone or something outside who needs to get acquainted with your shotgun”.
Sorry… late nights do wonders for the imagination.
He jerks again, violently.
I’m starting to realize that he must be dreaming.
And my suspicions are confirmed when he thrashes enough to look like he’ll start throwing punches soon.
What’s a girl to do?
The only thing a sweet and loving wife would know to do.
Slide her ice cold feet across the sheets onto her fitfully slumbering husband’s legs.
You’re welcome, honey.
(yes, the shiner is healing quite nicely, thanks for asking :)