Except just as I'm slipping back into comfy, happy sleep, the cat lands on my chest and starts to make herself comfortable (which involves making me decidedly uncomfortable, naturally). Her shrill MIAOW! as I toss her to the floor and the skittering of her claws wakes up the baby, who spends the next ten minutes grunting quietly while maneuvering her hands out of the tight swaddling blanket as I hope in desperation that she'll forget about it and just go back to sleep.
She doesn't forget about it. I finally get out of bed (cursing myself for giving birth to a child who could outgrow her bassinet so quickly, thus making a trip all the way across the room necessary), give her the nimmie, rewrap her, and crawl back into bed.
This buys me an additional seven minutes, during which the cat sizes up my face as her next bed.
The next trip across the room to reswaddle my little Houdini is accompanied by muttered imprecations. The phrase "child from the pit" might have been used, although I am mostly not awake, so don't quote me on that.
Good thing she's cute.
Also good thing it's Monday, and the kids are in daycare. Looks like I'll be accomplishing the ENTIRE to-do list today, and not sitting on the couch reading Abraham Lincoln, Vampire Hunter.
This time last year: Food Waste Friday: Three Things
