All I Want For Christmas Is a King-Sized Bed

We've fallen into a bad habit with Abby. She goes to bed just fine, but when she wakes up, somewhere between 1 and 3 a.m., I bring her into our bed. No questions asked. No rocking or patting. I stumble in, pick her up, stumble back and fall into bed. We are back to sleep in seconds.

On one hand, I'm not worried about this trend. For all the pacing and fretting and worrying we did over Sam and Jake's sleeping, they both sleep just fine. In their own beds. Through the night. It will work itself out. Plus, she's such a little muffin to sleep with. She cuddles and pats and whispers. And there is no better way to start your day than with a rosy-cheeked cherub who is so happy to see you. No morning breath. No morning grumpies. Just "Hey, it's you! I LOVE you!"

On the other hand ... I'm sure I don't sleep as well when she's in the bed with us. I know this because all the aforementioned cuddling and patting and whispering is done totally on my side of the bed. Many nights I sleep on a 10-inch strip of the bed, bookended by Abby's feet and the cat's butt.

So I've been thinking about a king-sized bed. One that could accommodate three or four of us plus the occasional cat. And then one of these days, Abby will sleep through the night in her own bed, and my king-sized bed will seem really empty.