Cottontail, as she snored softly.
If someone were to stumble upon this scene, they'd probably think we'd been caught in a tornado mid-slumber. My pillow was halfway across the room, and the blanket we were sharing had twisted itself into something resembling a poorly made burrito.
My own position wasn't any better—I was half hanging off the bed, one arm awkwardly twisted beneath me.
Damn it!
I groaned.
How did single moms in movies always wake up looking like queens? Here I was, my nightshirt half twisted around my torso, one sock missing, and my hair resembling a bird's nest.
"Mia," I groaned, carefully lifting her leg off my face and shifting her tiny body into a more dignified sleeping position. "You sleep like you've been wrestling bears in your dreams."
The knock came again, more insistent this time.
