At 2 in the morning, I tend to lose my sense of humor. So what started as a cute little episode between brothers, soon had me seeing red. It went something like this:
2am: Frank comes sliding in under the covers of my bed with frigid little hands and feet. Poor boy had probably been without blankets for some time. I scooped him up and brought him back to his own bed and tucked him in tight. I had to gently tug the covers away from his big brother Charlie, who was apparently hoarding them.
2:05 am: Charlie's at my bedside now, crying. "Mom! Frank stole all the blankets!" Arrg. I scoop him up, and carry him back to his own bed where sure enough I find Frank with their full-size comforter rolled into a ball and holding on tight on his side of the bed. I give them both a little reminder about sharing, spread out the blankets again, and back to bed I go.
2:10am: Frank's back and crying this time. More blanket stealing going on. More reminders about sharing.
2:13am: Frank's back again. Crying louder and with a different tone now...you know the kind...the "I've just been punched in the head for no reason" cry. Another return to his bed...more talk of sharing, couple of kisses. (Did I mention little John's sleeping like a king across the room alone in his bed?!)
2:20: Charlie's turn to cry again. Alright boys...mom's losing it. Time to share...time to sleep!!!! The threats begin...I think I may have mentioned stapling them to the sheets. I was tired, and cranky...and losing patience to say the least. Not my finest hour.
Anyhow...they did manage to fall back asleep with only a couple more visits to my room.
Can you believe that Charlie mentioned at breakfast that he didn't sleep well?! Arrg. Praying that tonight's a better, more peaceful night. Loving husband John suggested I could always pin one corner of the blanket to each of their pajamas. Funny. He obviously didn't hear a thing last night.
