Bedtime Assault

My eyes narrowed suspiciously at my daughter’s arm. She was on her side in bed, and this dubious limb was dangling behind her hip. “Are you digging your butt?”

“Nooo… no, I’m not digging my butt. See?” Her questionable fist swung around with the ferocity of a tiger. An index finger jammed into my left nostril before my brain sluggishly processed the attack.

I flew backwards with a grunt and was grateful for the pillow that caught my head. Staring at the empty air in front of me, I sniffed timidly. She chortled next to me, quite proud of having proved her finger innocent. This time.



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