Bedfellows

Are you getting sick and tired of reading about the conversations I have with The Rock Star? I sure hope not because I've got another funny one. He fell asleep in the car yesterday on the way home from the train museum. Whenever he takes a nap it takes him considerable time to fall asleep at night. We put him in our bed to start off because his brother wasn't asleep yet and we didn't want them keeping each other awake.

Our bedroom is directly over the family room and after quite some time I heard a giant thud. Did he fall out of bed? I asked Troy. Is he still not asleep? What's going on up there? I often ask Troy questions that he cannot possible know the answer to. I happen to think it is one of my most charming character flaws traits. I got up and headed to the top of the stairs.

G: (standing next to the bed, throwing stuffed animals and pillows onto it, and whispering) I don't know. You should get back in bed, Puppy. It's time to go to sleep. It is nighttime. (Suddenly he caught a glimpse of me and struggled to get quickly back into bed.)
Me: What are you doing?
G: I just want to put my head down here. (It cracks me up how three-year-olds often answer the question with something that makes no sense.)
Me: You need to go to sleep, Dude. It's really late. (I notice that his blanket sleeper is unzipped all the way to his foot.) Why are your jammies unzipped?
G: Um. Just because I was showing Puppy my ankles.

Oh to be three. To suddenly get the crazy idea that your stuffed puppy needs to see your ankles, and then to act on your impulse.