january 26th

It was one of those nights.

Audrey had a bad dream and crawled into our bed. Before long, I was clinging to the edge on my side, with Kim crowded in the middle, and Audrey sprawled on what seemed like half of the bed. At some point, we invited her to go back to her room, but the suggestion was met with tears. Too tired to address her fear, we suggested moving her to the foot of the bed. This was met with immediate protest and a pitiful request: "I just want to snu(sob)ggle." But when given the alternative of going back to her own bed, she crawled into the comfortable space I'd made for her. For awhile.
Before long I woke up to find myself back on the edge of the bed with Audrey saying, "Mom. Mom. Mom. Mom."
"What?"
"My nose is stuffy. I need a tissue." I brought her a tissue, settled back in, and closed my eyes. "Mom. Mom."
"What?"
"I can still feel my stuffy nose."
"Trying putting your head on two pillows."
"I don't have two pillows." Kim climbed out of bed to find an extra pillow and put it under her head. I thought dawn might be peeking through the blinds, but I avoided looking at the clock for fear it would confirm my suspicion.
Finally. Silence.
Just when we thought Audrey had settled down and fallen asleep, we heard her whisper. "Dad. Dad. Dad. Da-a-a-a-d."
Kim and I answered in unison. "WHAT?!"
"Happy birthday."