I pried my eyes open to see my 8 year old standing above my previously sleeping head. Tears in her eyes and on her cheeks, she was barely awake herself but obviously devastated about something.
"Wha? What's wrong? Did you have a bad dream?" I whispered, pulling back the covers for her to climb in beside me.
"No, ~insert incoherent mutterings here~ pajamas...sniff, sniff..."
It's 2 am and I can barely hear what she's mumbling. Her mutterings have turned into sniffling mini-sobs and the dog is stirring because Talking=Play Time, so I definitely need to nip this conversation in the bud PRONTO.
"What's wrong, baby?"
She inhales and bawls out, in one fell (very loud) swoop:
"THERE IS A BIG HOLE IN MY NEW PAJAMAS! THE FOOTIE ONES I JUST BOUGHT WITH MY BIRTHDAY GIFT CARD!! AND THIS IS THE FIRST TIME I'VE EVER WORN THEMMMMM!!!!" (She is full-on crying right now)
Seriously? This is seriously happening at 2 am?
Yep. It's happening, Tracey. So wake the hell up. The dog is twitching her ears, so DO IT SWIFTLY.
"I'm sorry, honey. I know you are really excited about the pajamas. Show me this hole; maybe I can sew it."
I wish you could have seen Corinne at 2 am, blindly searching behind her back for the hole so massive she had to wake me up to bear witness. She turned round and round, like a puppy chasing its tail, till her finger hooked into the tiniest, teeniest, most miniscule hole ever found on any footie pajamas, EVER.
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