I don’t really mind Amy wanting to sleep with me if she’s out of sorts at 4am, because it hardly ever happens, and I’m sure the “don’t talk to me! don’t even LOOK at me!” years will sneak up on us faster than we know. It’s the elaborate door list of plus-ones that she not only wants to include, but expects me to chauffeur from her room to ours that sours the whole thing. By the time Snuggly, Bianca, Giovanni, Blankie, Bag 1, Bag 2, Crown, Unicorn, Tiny Kiwi, Knitted Basket and Peter have been retrieved and finally arranged in a very specific layout, I’m wide awake. Which is probably for the best as I need to keep my wits about me to stop from falling off the very tiny remaining corner of mattress.

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