I made the bed in the guest room, slipped on my Birkenstocks, and plodded down the hallway. The light in Isabelle’s room was on, but she wasn’t in it. Hmmmm… I didn’t hear the television downstairs, which meant Marc hadn’t gotten ready for work yet. Our bedroom door was closed. Something was not right.
I opened the door to our bedroom and found Isabelle sleeping horizontally on my side of the bed with her blankie, her baby, and Teddy. But Marc wasn’t there. What on Earth is going on?
Light peeked out from beneath the bathroom door. I knocked lightly, then let myself in. He sculpted his hair with gel, getting ready for work.
“Good morning,” he said.
Before I could even ask him how he was feeling (Hence the reason I was sleeping in our guest room since the snoring from his cold kept me awake the previous night.), I said, “I see you had a guest last night.”
“Yeah, I did.” And then he recounted the story. Isabelle woke up and walked into our bedroom at 3:30 a.m. She was confused by my absence and wanted Marc to bring her to me. He refused. He tried to get her back to sleep in her room, but she wasn’t tired. So, he let her turn on the light in her room and play Legos — until she banged them against each other. At that point, he went back to her room and asked her to play quietly. She did for several minutes, but kept going back and forth between our bedroom and her’s (all the while leaving me undisturbed in the guest room). Finally, she told Marc she was tired so he told her she could sleep on my side of the bed since he just wanted to go back to sleep. (After all, he is the one who is under the weather.) She must’ve gone back to her bedroom to retrieve her personal effects since this I found her quite cozy with four items from her room snuggled-up on my side of the bed.
When she awoke, I asked, “Are you comfy?” She smiled.
Don’t get used to it, kiddo, I thought. You’re going back to your bed tonight.