Last night I awoke around 4 am to find Hannah cuddled up next to me. I hate to wake her because she is so snuggly and warm, but we have a strict "no kids in our bed until sunrise" rule. Trying to pick her up is like trying to pick up jello. No matter how you do it, most of her slips back onto the bed and you come up with only an arm or a leg. As she slowly woke up, she began to fight me, kicking and hitting and giving me "the look" (which could scare the stripes off a zebra, by the way.) After a few minutes struggle, she finally succumbed and went into my arms, but not without one final desperate attempt to be left alone in our bed. In a scratchy little voice, tinged with bitterness and accusation, she said "I'm NOT having a good dream!"
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