He was laying in our bed drinking water from his sippy cup and watching Toy Story 2 for the 9th consecutive day. We have a ways to go, but we are definitely aiming for the world record.
When the movie was over he informed me he had spilled water on our freshly made, clean sheeted bed. I ran my hand over most of the bed but didn't feel anything.
I brushed him off.
That's ok, Big E.
Fast forward to my bedtime. It was Siberia cold in our house. I couldn't wait to jump into our bed and hunker down for the night. As I stretched out my weary legs, I felt it.
A patch of ice.
Right where my feet would go.
What in the world?
Ah, the spilled water! Dang!
I quickly snapped my legs back up and curled into ball. Which is how I remained until this morning, when the sheets and comforter were finally dry.
I know I could have gotten up and thrown everything into the dryer for a few minutes. But it was 11. And I was a zombie. And it was snowing inside our house.
Anyway, I learned a valuable lesson.
No little Yoys or drinks allowed in the bed.
What my bed felt like last night. Thanks, Big E!