World's Cutest Baby woke up at 12:30 last night wanting to eat and then again at 3 a.m. because she'd misplaced her pacifier. (It's always in the last place you look, WCB.) About a half-hour later, I awoke to yet another joyful noise: World's Cutest Cat producing a hairball in the hallway.
I tried to ignore it, but that's physically impossible for me. My husband could sleep through a helicopter crash in our bedroom; I'm now programmed to leap out of bed at the first hint of a baby gurgling, a cat retching, or, occasionally, imaginary axe murderers making vague, furnace-like noises in the basement.
I staggered downstairs for some Resolve Carpet Cleaner and a roll of paper towels. About an hour later, World's Cutest Cat decided to thank me for my cleanup job by jumping up on the bed and poking me in the forehead with her claws. Again and again. And again. And again. I finally distracted her by carrying her downstairs and reminding her where her food dish is.
World's Cutest Baby decided to wake up for the day at 6:30 a.m. She was cheerful about it; I was not. If I end up plopping facedown onto my keyboard, do not be alarm6yymyfr68fyhjfr688885i;l';kl