Good Morning, Graysen.

So for the past four days, three out of four of the members of our family have been sick.

Our house is covered with crinkled up tissues, and clothes, and blankets, and other sick-people things.

This morning, Graysen, the only Morgan that isn't sick, came into our room and climbed into bed with us.

I rolled over, unwilling to relinquish ten more possible minutes of sleep.

She curled up beside me, tossing and turning and chattering to herself, while I fell back into a light sleep.

After a while I felt her glide off the bed.

Usually when she gets disinterested in my bed, I give up and follow her, but this morning I decided to stay put a few more minutes since the temperature of my house was around ten below-freezing ( thanks Brandon).

So as I'm lying snuggled under the covers, I feel an awkward twenty-five pounds jump back on the bed, crawl across me, and fidget around in the covers.

This stirs my curiosity.

Fidgeting usually means trouble.

So I rolled over and peeked my head out of the covers to find a bug-eyed three year old staring back at me, covered in tissues.

She looks at me seriously and whispers, "Mommy...I got issues."

Yes, you do.

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