After You

Abigail & I love to cuddle warmly in our beds in the evening alternately reading, giggling, & chatting. Eventually, we work ourself into a comfortable state of sleepiness. That is approximately when we run accross the major bone of contention in our otherwise amicable relationship.

The light.

By way of blame, a minor reconfiguration of our home created a mild inconvenience in the girls' room. By way of explanation, our light switch is outside of our bedroom. By way of a solution, our tentative rule of thumb requires the girl who last got in to bed to be the one who gets up to turn it off. I say tentative because rule though it is, it does not eliminate a (friendly) argument at least twice a week. And that's after the (friendly) race to be the first to bed.

The other night after an especially long chat-fest, Abigail & I wound down in an especially warm & cozy state. Turning off the light was an especially undesirable chore. Sweet girl that I am, I finally dragged myself grumbling out of bed to perform the duty. Reaching the doorway, I turned just in time to see Abigail leap laughing from bed. "Actually, I have to go to the restroom," she giggled, "I was just waiting for you to get up...."

After I finished growling at her, she finished her unrepentant exaltations, and we finished laughing, I announced that she is solely responsible for the light switch for the next week. At least.