"Ungggh." I don't want to wake up from the warm, dark, heavy unconsciousness. Noooo!
"Unggh." I crack open my left eye in time to see a small pudgy arm rising to tap me on the chest again. Logan's big blue eyes greet my blurry gaze and he smiles welcomingly.
"You're still in there!" he seems to say. "Wake up. Want milk. Want up."
"No, honey, go back to sleep. Mommy wants a nap." My speech is slurred with exhaustion. My lap is filled with my cat, Domino. I'm pinned to the bed by his weight, with my left arm wrapped around Logan. Emma is sleeping in the twins' room, my good sleeper. My eyes fall closed again and the cat purrs, vibrating gently.
Tap. Tap tap. "Enh! Enh!" Logan is insistent, but I'm so tired that I groggily shift his position, hoping that a change of scenery will make him happy and let me sleep for a few more minutes. Now he lays across my ribs, partly kneeling, facing the cat. Domino misses being close to me, first it was because of my giant belly, now it's because I constantly have a baby in my arms. He's taken advantage of my napping to lay down right on top of me where he can be conspicuously within petting range. I reach down and pet his head clumsily. I know that just like Caitlin, he needs attention. Poor kitty. Poor Caitlin.
"Enh! Enh! Enh! Enh!" Uh oh. He sounds like he's starting to get serious about this waking up thing. I open both eyes this time and pull him up to a sitting position on my chest. He gives me an excited squawk and flatters me with his electric smile. Then he starts babbling, "Ooo! Ooo! You! You! Hiiiii!" This proves to be my undoing. I can't resist the smiling and cooing combination. I wake up all the way and coo back.
Laying him down at my side, I admire both my son and my cat. The cats still weigh more than the twins, but the twins are catching up. Domino opens his eyes to slits and observes the usurper laying next to him and decides to let him live a little longer. Perhaps he'll devour the noisemaker another day. Logan remains unconcerned and unimpressed. Resigned, I get up, dislodging the cat.
No rest for the Hatchet.