We have a mostly-enforced rule in our house that the kids are not to join us in our bed in the middle of the night.

 
While I don’t judge the Family Bed people, we have more of a “Get the F%$# out of our bed…but we love you, sweetie!” policy.

 
The kids know this but have figured out the one and only exception is when either Mom or Dad get out of the bed, this leaves a generous amount of space for a child to pounce and claim as their own.

 
We haven’t done much to detract from this ongoing kid-driven phenomenon and I do suspect our kids sleep either in the hallway outside of our room or on the floor beside or under the bed because it usually just takes the sound of someone rolling over before you see a set of eyes creeping around the mattress to see if there is an opening.

 
Greg got up early this morning and after both feet hit the ground, I felt a pounce and I knew based on the fringe around the blanket she was mummy-wrapped in it was my good friend, Chloe-queen-of-darkness.

 
She knew her best shot at not being kicked out of our bed was to lay low, say nothing, don’t ask for a back rub or driving lessons, just chill out and I would probably let her stay.

 
But then she did something I’ve never seen any of our three kids do.

 
She stood up in the middle of the bed towards the foot.

 
Her arms were tucked in at her sides as pink fuzzy was a full-body cloak and really just the whites of her eyes were visible.

 
I wasn’t sure if she was waiting for her Mother ship to beam her up but without turning to look behind her she jumped up and back, landing the perfect dismount into three already stacked king-sized pillows, sighed and closed her eyes.

 
Huh.