Dear children of mine,
I love it when one of you gets in bed with me while your dad is at the fire station. I have fond memories of doing this myself when Dad was at work. I love it when you snuggle up next to me, all traces of the day's disappointments/let downs/anger are gone.
When both of you do this? With me sandwiched in the middle? I do not love this. You are both cover hogs, pulling it back and forth across me all night. You are both restless, elbows and arms and legs swinging out from both directions hitting me in the head, or the stomach, or the leg. You both sigh loudly, and, like your dad, talk in your sleep.
Our Queen sized bed is not big enough for all three of us.
Your Mom who finally got up and slept on the floor at 5 am because there was no waking you two