All I Want For Christmas

I want the sore throat and cold I've been battling for the past few days to move onto its next victim. (As long as it's not my kids, or husband.) Actually, I don't wish it on anyone. Blah. Moms should not be allowed to get sick.

I  want a minimum of 7 hours of sleep a night. That means no loud singing, no creeping out of your room and turning on every light in the house at 3 AM, but most importantly, don't sneak into my room and stand beside my bed and stare at me. I can hear you breathing, and I know you're there, even though sometimes I pretend I don't. Seriously, I go to bed after Jeopardy is over . . . (When did I turn into my mother?) Anyway, 7 hours of sleep shouldn't be that hard, and now that I put bells on your door I have a jump start and I'll know when you're coming. No more creepin'.

Last, but not least - if you're going to have an "accident" on my kitchen floor, please don't pick up the poop and blame it on the cat.


Love, Mom 

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