the goose, the hog, and the worm

Baby boy woke me up at 5:30 this morning to eat. I discovered Sarah in the bed next to me. Apparently, David had been up late and fallen asleep on the couch downstairs. Smart man. I wish I had done the same. After feeding Joshua, I gently put him back in the crib (which, against my better judgement, is in our room) so as not to wake him up and climbed back into bed about 6:15, thrilled that I could sleep until 8:00. That's when the noises started. That baby simply cannot get into a deep sleep without making the loudest ruckus I have ever heard coming from such a little thing. He honks just like a goose. After getting up several times to make sure he was really asleep, which he was every single time of the three that I checked, I snuggled in around 6:40 for a blissful hour and twenty minutes of sleep. That's when Sarah started to hog the covers. Every time I got just warm and snuggly and ready to doze off, she somehow snagged all the covers right off of me. Around 6:50, I got smart, grabbed the covers, and tugged with everything I had. Finally, I dozed off. Of course, at 7:05, a wiggly little worm named Zach joined me on the other side with his blanket and assorted sleeping friends of which there are many. I've lost count of all "the guys" he takes to bed with him. He hasn't, though, as evidenced when he can't go to sleep because somebody is missing and he has to go out on a rescue mission to find the lost soul. Back next to me to wiggle some more until he's comfortable and I'm not. Then he had to head out somewhere else for some other crazy reason. Of course he came back and wiggled right back in. That (at 7:15) was when I pulled out the last resort mom trick that every mother must employ every now and again when she is ready to head for the loony bin and told him I would be right back without, of course, any intention of ever coming back. I headed for the couch. Thank goodness we have two! Within minutes I was zonked on the couch while the goose, the hog, and the worm enjoyed the noisy, coverless, and wiggly morning in my bed without me.