Last night, Brently came home late from rehearsal. He decided to sleep on the couch so that he wouldn’t keep me awake. This meant his half of the bed was unoccupied.
Somewhere around 4:30 a.m. I got up for a bathroom break. When I returned to my bed, I found it occupied, first by Ash and then by Ren.
“Someone is sleeping in my bed,” I said to myself. “This bed is too full.”
Since the couch was unavailable, I wandered into Ashlyn’s room. “This bed is too high,” I said looking at her loft, “and her room is booby-trapped.” There were a hundred surprises lying in wait on the floor for an unsuspecting and barefoot intruder. I left and went to Ren’s room.
“This bed is too small,” I said staring down at miniature-sized cot with rails, “but it is unoccupied and only six inches off the floor.”
I arranged his pillows and blankets and crawled into his bed, pulling my knees to my chin. My head bumped against the head board. My feet kicked the kickboard. I fell back to sleep and dreamed I was being shipped overseas in a box where I could never fully extend my legs and arms.
At 7 a.m, I opened my eyes and saw Ren staring down at me. “Momma, why are you sleeping in my bed?”
Last night, Brently fell asleep on the couch while watching football. He wandered upstairs in the middle of the night in a completely darkened house. He stood in our bedroom doorway and whispered, “Are there any kids or critters in my bed?”