One of my favorite times of day is right before I go to bed, when I check in on Mags in her room and make sure she's not half off her mattress or some such thing. She almost always has something wacky going on. The other night she was serenely, angelically asleep, clutching her favorite yellow plastic level (yes, a real workman's level) under one arm. The night after that she has positioned herself in the corner of her bed and had piled up every single stuffed animal she could reach over her head like a pitched fort. Next time she was completely perpendicular to her mattress at the absolute tip top of her bed, on top of the bolster that we keep there to discourage climbing or falling at that end. Sometimes she's gotten underneath her pillow, so that all we can see are her toes. More nights than not, I step to the bathroom door and whisper to Bill, "You have to come see your daughter." Even in her sleep, she keeps us on our toes.
