Sometimes the kids and I have a sleepover. That means that all four of us (the hubby usually politely declines) snuggle up on the floor on a pile of blankets and pillows. There's some talking and giggling, some reading and snuggling, often some arguing and yelling and eventually some sleeping. It's a good time for all. We all feel bad that the hubby doesn't partake, that he's all alone in his bed with no giggles, no elbows in the face, no knees to the groin, no being squashed out of bed between two little bodies. But he says he really doesn't mind. And besides, I only have three sides. Yes, that's right. Three. One on the left, one on the right, and one at the top. Not ON the top, but AT the top. Like perpendicular to the other three of us, across the top of my head. Like so:
And of course, that leaves no room for the hubby anyway. I have two sides and a top. The bottom is no fun because my feet stink he can't talk to us easily from that angle. So he just stays in his bed. He gets to have a sleep over with me every other night anyway. Since the kids and I all had Monday off of school/work for Martin Luther King Jr day we decided to have a Martin Luther King Jr. Day sleepover. Any excuse for a sleep over works for us. And while we usually just go with the flow, this time we decided that we had to have a sleepover activity. And what better activity for a sleepover? We all had a dream.
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