Most nights I try really hard to be the first one into bed. I drag myself upstairs, hoping David will get off the computer and come to bed at the same time so we can get to sleep sooner. I start my routine of checking on the kids, getting them or myself water, etc. etc., and then get in bed. I usually forget something, get up and take care of it, then get back in bed. Meanwhile, David waltzes upstairs, does his routine and then gets into bed before me. No fair! I started long before him, and, usually, he still beats me! So then what does he do? He gets me thinking or talking about some subject that wakes up my brain (okay, maybe I do it to myself), and then I lay there for another half an hour or so trying to go to sleep while he’s conked out in 2 minutes!
The other night, my sweet, caring husband jumps under the covers and says, “I love beating you into bed.”
I rewarded him with a punch to the arm.
He continues, “Not to rub it in your face…”
Whack!
“Like a cream pie…”
Thump!
“With rice whip…”
Smack!
“And one of those cherries that you hate.”
Hey!
2 minutes later, David: zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.
30 minutes later, me: Grrrr!!!!