Two little words have come to mean so much to Pete and me. When they're said, it means our sleep is going to be disrupted. It means one of us will likely be condemned to uncomfortably spending the rest of the evening cramped in a too-small single bed. The words carry more weight to us personally than the latest proclamations coming from Bush. [Shameful, but true.]
It's Luke. His mission? To scoot one of us -- usually Pete -- from our cozy, high-quality-sheet-encased, overpriced luxurious mattress. So he can have all the luxuries, all the warmth, all the comfort. And the odd-parent out can't.
And the remaining parent -- usually me -- smiles slightly as the mate wanders away to another bedroom. And the remaining parent says, "Night, night, Lukie" as she falls easily back to sleep. Isn't it lucky that the remaining parent has never had any trouble falling asleep?
Poor odd-parent out.