Heavyweight

Kris and I fight over the covers at night: not necessarily who gets the blankets, but rather who DOESN'T get the blankets.

I like the blankets heavy on top of me. I'll pile a bunch of blankets on the bed: the flannel sheet, Kris' t-shirt quilt, the olive green polyester thingy, and the comforter. Kris likes to remove the t-shirt quilt, fold it in half, and put the whole thing on my side. I don't mind a bit: I like the weight.

Helen and Toss were worried about my being warm last night, so they gave me a couple toasty warm fuzzy blankets, the flannel sheets, and a pile of curtains.

At least, that's what they looked like.

And that's what they felt like. They were nice and heavy.

Complete with tassles.

The things were so heavy, I was unable to lift them completely and throw them across the bed. So, I piled them onto the bed, folded in half, of course, moving a quarter at a time, and tried to get under all of the covers I had piled up.

"Hey! I hear a lot of grunting over there!" Mom called to me, from the other room. Yeah, well, getting under the covers takes effort.

Once under, I didn't move the entire night, unable to turn over with the blankets on top of me. Didn't even wake up at 4 am.