Poor Phoebe has been so miserable that we haven't been very strict about making her get back into her own bed when she wakes up in the night. In fact, we've been getting so unstrict about it that we thought it might be easier if she just sleeps with me and Andrew sleeps elsewhere.
He hasn't gotten sick and there was the potential that he'd need to be out of town next week (though, as it turns out...he doesn't), so we didn't really want him to catch this sickness. True that Andrew and I continued to sleep in the same quarters while I've been sick, but I'm a bit better at keeping my germs to myself than Phoebe is. So when Phoebe was begging to squeeze her snotty, sneezy self between us for the night, Andrew suggested that he leave the two of us sickies—me and Phoebe—to snuggle and sleep in the big bed while he headed to the couch for the night.
That way she wouldn't end up sneezing directly in his face (a sure-fire way to get sick).
She agreed that was a lovely idea.
So he grabbed his pillow, put Phoebe's own pillow in its place, and headed to the couch, leaving the two of us to fall asleep.
He was out like a light within 30 seconds, I'm sure. (He's blessed with such skills).
I was busy trying to fall asleep when suddenly (from my perspective) Phoebe started sobbing—big tears were dripping off her face, getting all mixed in with her snot. It was quite disgusting.
"What could possibly be wrong?" I asked (you know, aside from being sick, which she obviously was...but, like, I was too—and the best thing for that was a good night's rest).
"I just wish that we didn't send Daddy away!" she wailed.
I eventually got her quieted down and we both fell asleep.
In the morning I asked her to explain to Daddy why she had been crying in the night and she said, "I just was so sad that you had to leave our bed."
"Our bed?" he asked. "What do you mean our bed?"
"Yours, mine, and Mommy's!"
So apparently we're still figuring out precisely what it means to stay in her own bed all night...because in her mind her bed is her bed, but our bed is also her bed.
*****
For the record, if we're trying to get her to go back to sleep in her (actual) own bed, she will not let us lie down next to her in bed...because it's her bed. We have to lie down on the floor.
So, there I was, trying to get her to go back to sleep the other night and she simply wouldn't settle down. She kept popping her head off the pillow to tell me things. Or reaching over to poke my face. Or...whatever.
Eventually I said, "Enough of this. I'm exhausted. I'm going to go lie down in my bed."
"No—please stay here!" she said.
"I don't think so," I said. "I'm not going to sleep on your floor when my cozy bed is just across the hall."
"Fine," she said. "Can you find my unicorn pillow?"
"You want your unicorn pillow now?" I asked.
"Yes."
"I...have no idea where it is...I'm so tired. I just need to sleeeeeep."
"Oh, here it is! Right here at the foot of my bed!"
"Oh, good. I'll tuck you back in with it."
"No! It's for you!"
"It's for...me?"
"So you can be cozy on the floor."
"Oh, sweetie—that is not going to be cozy enough for me," I said.
"Okay," she fretted. "Okay. Let me think! Let me think! You can have this blanket, too!"
"Listen," I said. "We've been at this for a long time. I think it's time we just got up and did some chores or something—a reading lesson, perhaps?—before we try sleeping again."
"I don't want to!" she said.
"Then you go to sleep in your bed and I'll go to sleep in mine."
"Fine," she grumbled. "Let's do chores."
We emptied the dishwasher together. I did my part (the glass and sharps) much faster than she did her part (not because there were fewer items to put away but just because...I'm awesome at putting dishes away and she's...slow) so I read a chapter in one of my books while she worked.
And then she said she was ready to go to bed, so I finished my chapter sitting in the hallway while she fell asleep. And then I went to bed.
And we all slept happily ever after.
*****
She slept in our bed again last night and when she woke up in the morning she wanted to deal with her morning breath. She is...a little obsessed...with hygiene lately. She goes around sniffing people to determine whether they smell good or bad, telling them to shower if she believes they smell bad (I always get a glowing report—I am the best smelling Mommy in the whole wide world and she should know...it is weird how much she sniffs me).
And...she is rather concerned about morning breath, including her own.
I have to beg half my children to brush their teeth in the morning so this is a nice change of pace, actually.
Part of the reason she likes to brush her teeth in the morning is because we let her use the princess toothbrush the dentist gave her (whereas at night we brush her teeth with her electric toothbrush).
So she went to brush her teeth and then ran back into the bedroom, screaming, "There's a ladybug on my toothbrush!"
She didn't even notice it before she put the toothpaste on. But...indeed...
...there was a ladybug on her toothbrush!
There are ladybugs all over our house right now. I'm not sure why—I mean, I know it's because it's winter and they're looking for a warm place to hang out, but...what I mean is...I'm not sure why they've chosen our house this year.
We've never had this problem before!
I guess they thought it was our house (ours and the ladybugs', collectively).
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