Blanket Wrestling

The hubby and I have been staying up entirely too late the past few nights watching movies on our new television. I have been forced to concede that things do look better when viewed on a ginormous screen. As if there was any doubt before, the hubby is keeping the TV.

Despite our late nights, I am feeling quite chipper this morning. Why, you might ask? Simply, I have been able to sleep in until 8:30 for two days in a row. Oh, how I love Christmas break!

When the hubby and I went to bed last night, we stopped to check on our sleeping boy. As usual, his lanky body was stretched out across his bed with nary a blanket in sight. They had been tossed or kicked from the bed as the boy slept.

After making sure that the child was sufficiently covered, we retired to our room.

As we climbed into bed, I wondered aloud about when the boy would stop kicking off his covers. He is, after all, eight. Even my four-year-old niece, who was just here for a visit, sleeps with her hands folded by her face, blankets pulled up neatly to her little chin.

Our boy seems to flail around his bed, wreaking havoc with his covers on a nightly basis.

The hubby lay there listening and then explained, "We Ha men wrestle our covers to wring out every last bit of comfort. It is one thing to be covered and quite another to be comfortable."

I had to chuckle. The hubby does wrestle the covers at night... one minute he is buried, the next all or parts of his body exposed to the night air. When we were first married, his constant tossing and turning would keep me up at night. After seventeen years, I have finally learned to sleep through just about anything.

This blanket wresting thing is just one more way that my boys are strangely alike. Genetics sure are a crazy thing.