Sometimes it's not such a bad thing when a kid shows up in your bed at night

Last night, Isaac decided he wanted a new bed. He'd found a box in the garage earlier in the day, filled it with pillows, had his sister strategically place balls around the perimeter for "wheels" and when bedtime rolled around, he climbed in. It took him a while, but eventually he fell asleep, feet sticking up in the air.

An hour or so later, he showed up at my bedside, climbed in beside me, and stretched out his cramped-up muscles. I put my arm around him, enjoying his warmth. If last time serves as any kind of reliable predictor for our upcoming post-surgical experience, Isaac will be spending lots of time in our bed over the next few months. But I won't be able to snuggle with his little furnace. He'll be too scratchy, and I won't feel any warmth from his body. The spica cast acts as an insulator; last time around, part of the nightly routine was lifting him out of our bed when it was time for us to sleep and putting him in the sleeping bag in the corner of our room. Every time I climbed into bed after that, the bed was as cool as if no one had been there at all.

So last night, I enjoyed the warmth and softness of Isaac.