It gets to this point every night - ten pm...and I start thinking about bed...feeling the fear that another nightmare will come, the anticipation that I will spend a few seconds during my dream thinking that this isn't reality and then I go upstairs and am met with a game of musical beds.
SInce my darling hubby died, there has been more swapping of beds then I have experienced in my life.
Right now I am wondering whether I will meet my teenager or my six year old when I climb into my bed.....and whether the baby will manage another night in her bed, or whether kicking me in the face all night is far more enjoyable.
And really whether my reason for allowing them to play musical beds is because it will help them, or just push back the moment when I am alone in my bed.
