It goes something like this~
Me~kindly pillow wiggle
Husband~"WHAT THE?! GEEZ! WHAT DID I DO?! WHY DID YOU SCREAM ME AWAKE?"
Me~moving his elbow to get him to roll over
Husband~"OWOWOWOWOWOUCH!!!!! THAT KILLS! YOU'RE KILLING ME! GEEEEEEEZZZZZZ......snore."
Totally not exaggerating...I leave that to him.
It kind of makes me wish I'd done something to merit that kind of response. Like when your mom says, "Oh, I'll GIVE you something to bawl about!"
The next morning, while searching for bruises and abrasions, he'll mention in passing some vague memory of being beaten with brass knuckles and a 2x4 in the middle of the night and when I tell him it was the soft pad of my index finger I used to tilt his head the other way, he's...surprised.
Now here's the twist~seems lately, PRINCESS LISA has been the snorehead offender! And she wakes herself up on regular occasion with nose barks that would make a congested pug-dog proud. Eyes darting in the pitch of the night, casting imaginary blame at shadows on the wall, while~now this is important~loudly clearing her throat, so that anybody who witnessed the racket will think, "Oh. Well then. She was fully aware of all that. She meant to."
Now obviously, this shouldn't be happening, because princesses don't snore. And I've sent a memo to the angels and Walt Disney, but until all things are rectified, let's just keep this between us, shall we, dear hearts? Because I've been known to point the finger of shame in Sterling's general direction every now and then, never noticing the digits aimed right back at me.
And I'd like to keep it that way, 'mm kay pumpkins?