The girls were hopping all over me and my bed this morning when it was time to wake up. Actually, it was when they decided it was time to wake up. Back and forth they sparred with each other, over the top of me. "B" did something to greatly agitate preschooler "H", though I didn't see exactly what, then "B" hit the floor and disappeared under my bed while laughing histarically. "H" lept from my bed, and made a mad dash to her bedroom. Armed with a noisy electric toothbrush, "H" reappeared in my doorway like the Terminator. With a warrior's cry, she dove under my bed after "B" with weapon in hand. I heard them both hollering and bumping under my bed for a few moments, and I wondered just where "H" was trying to put that toothbrush. With a cry of momentay defeat, "H" retreated, scrambling back onto my bed. ""B" got my toothbrush! Go get it now!" she demanded as she gave me a might shove. Before I knew what hit me, I was airborne and grabbing for the headboard, the sheets, anything to keep my butt from landing on the hardwood floor. The hairbrush on my dresser proved to be a useful tool as I chased "H" out of the room (several times) and went to work on disarming "B". I attacked, jabbing the brush under the bed again and again. Shoes, slippers I'd forgotten I owned, and a bouncy ball that I didn't remember were hurled back out at me. All the while, the evil "B" laughed her defiant laugh. The action finally ended when Miss Boogieman under my bed ran out of ammunition and decided to surrender.
