Because we like to spend our mornings with Leta in our bed watching Matt Lauer's hair recede ever so slowly, a large assortment of toys always collects underneath our pillows: books, rattles, sealed cough drop bags, a wide variety of Avon bottles promising to cure under-eye wrinkles, pens, old sunglasses, and old cellphones which have had their batteries removed and are no good at fooling Leta into thinking they are the real thing.

Occasionally we will climb into bed at night only to lie directly on top of one of these toys because I'm just too lazy to move them out of the way when I make the bed during the day. The only reason I make the bed is because my Granny Hamilton always said that making your bed gave you character, and I like to honor her memory. Granny Hamilton, however, refused to wash dishes, and when we would visit her we couldn't use the bathtub because IT WAS ALWAYS FULL OF DIRTY DISHES, ones that couldn't fit into the kitchen sink because it was already overflowing with dirty dishes. Jon should be thankful that he married a selective memory honorer.

This morning I rolled over to snuggle into Jon as I heard Leta making her morning noises from the other room, and as I pushed my head into the back of his neck I almost turned on the television. We had slept with the TiVo remote between us the entire night, and I could feel the indentation of a "thumbs up" button on the side of my face. Jon hates it that I let Leta play with the remote (and the phone, and the open container of gasoline), but frankly, she knows how to work the thing better than he does. Do you know how frustrating it is to watch an episode of "Law and Order" when the person in charge of the remote DOESN'T FAST FORWARD THROUGH THE COMMERCIALS FAST ENOUGH? Leta can't STAND that.