Sleep Is for the Weak And Sickly
I nudged Ducky. "It's your turn."
"No… I went last time."
"No, I'm sure I did. I remember thinking how damned cold it is at ten at night."
"Which is why I adjusted the thermostat at midnight."
I sighed. "Crap. You're right."
"We could let her fuss for a while…" he said in a sleepy (and hopeful) voice.
"Get real. You know she won't hush up. She's far too awake." I shoved my feet into slippers and padded to the baby's room across the hall.
Sleeping like a little angel… and the curls of soft red-gold hair looked just like a halo. I scooped her up; she didn't even twitch. (She's a hard sleeper.) I walked carefully down the stairs and into Victoria's room.
She was already sitting up, waiting impatiently. "There she is! My grandbaby!"
"This is the last time," I said firmly, settling the now half-awake baby in her lap. "You both need your sleep!" (And so do Ducky and I!)