SUNDAY NIGHT, AUGH
I know it is Sunday because mommy always washes the sheets on Sunday. I don’t like Sunday because at bedtime I have to wait for mommy to make our bed. I don’t mind helping but sometimes it takes even longer when I jump up and try to help her stretch out the sheets. I don’t know how she does it. It’s really hard. The more I jump and turn, the more they clump up into a ball instead of spreading out. I just don’t get it. If I’m really tired, I just sit on the floor at the foot of the bed and let her make the bed by herself. I stare at her and every few minutes I whine and ask, “Is it ready yet? Mommy answers, “Not yet.” I whine again, “How about now?” “No not yet.” “And now?” This goes on until mommy looks over at me, smiles, and says “Okay, now it’s ready.” I pounce up on the bed and rub and roll all over the clean blanket. I just love that fresh, clean smell and how soft they feel. By the time mommy puts her pajamas on, I’m usually cuddled with my bed pal and (according to mom) snoring.