Tonight is the last night I sleep alone before Sir visits.
And tomorrow I’ll be up past my bedtime for an entirely different reason.
It’s been too long.
bedtime
Whineee.
StandardI sassed Sir about bedtime and now I’ve got one tally out of eight and you don’t wanna know what happens when it gets up to eight or at least I don’t wanna tell you because eek.
A guy in my cohort sent me a jokey flirty message saying he thought good girls went to bed early.
Dude.
DUDE.
One does not simply joke about bedtime.
I may have mentioned on here that Sir and I like to do this thing most nights lately when we are together where he tucks me in. I’ll get into bed and he’ll pull the covers up to my chin. Then, I’ll usually demand a story but he’ll insist he doesn’t know any and he’ll kiss me on the forehead and go back into the other room. By the time he comes back to bed, I’m usually asleep. We both like that. It makes me feel safe, as silly as that may sound.
But when I see him in a few weeks, I think I might just be far too giddy to fall asleep the first time he tucks me in again.
Photo by: Adam Williamson
Model: Stephanie AIpperspach
“Don’t let the monsters get me, ‘kay?”
The other night, Sir told me what happens to girls that don’t observe their bedtimes.
I don’t think he’d have the guts to do it, but I don’t want to give him the opportunity to prove me wrong.
Bedtime is inevitable.
Comfort, however, is not.
If only.
“You’re just far too little and you’d be up far too late to play with Daddy and his friends. But, look, all of your little friends are right here, just in time for bedtime.”