By Diane Ako
I bought tickets for Sesame Street Live when it came to Honolulu. Claus and I took Olivia and made a family Sunday out of it. We met up with my cousin Val and her youngest, five year old Carson. The other two kids are too old to want to see Sesame Street anymore!
In the theater, which was dark and cool, both Olivia and I started to get sleepy midway through the show. Aah, she is so my daughter. She started leaning on me in all kinds of positions, until she finally settled on putting her head on my lap and her legs on Claus' lap. She fell asleep.
Meanwhile, I too was getting tired, so I put my head on his shoulder and nodded off. I was awoken by a soft shaking, which turned out to be his body moving as he chuckled at the situation: he's covered with sleeping people from head to toe, while he's forced to sit through a performance he really isn't all that interested in.
More sleepy-time stories:
Many mornings, Olivia wakes up and crawls into my side of the bed. Most young kids are closer to their mother, and she's no exception. Other than the whole mom-baby, "I carried you for nine months" thing, I bet it's because I stayed home with her for most of her first three years.
Saturday morning, she had a head cold. She was coughing and turning restlessly in our queen-sized bed, and I was too crowded to sleep. I relocated myself at 4 a.m. to her bed. I know she wants to be near me, but I also didn't want to keep waking her up so I could take her with me. She needs her sleep.
At 8:30 a.m. I heard her walking around in the hallway looking for me. "Mama?" she said, with a little panic. Little kids hate to be left alone.
"Here, Hon," I called back.
Confusion. "Are you sleeping in my bed?" she asked.
She walked in and indignantly asked why I didn't stay in my bed this morning. And for that matter, why do I tuck her in at night and go in the living room with Daddy to look at the TV?
I answered her questions and then we started getting dressed. As I walked back to my bedroom to make the bed, I was confused as to why Claus' blanket and pillow were missing. (We have separate comforters, a very Scandanivian custom.) Then I laughed because I guessed that she was too annoying to sleep with, so he relocated.
In addition to all the other actions I mentioned above, she kicks Claus in her sleep. She spins around, and he gets her feet. It's always been this way. I get the head and he gets the feet.
I was right. His stuff was in the guest bed. So basically, the smallest person in the house not only chased us out of our own bed, but got the biggest bed in the house.
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