It could be called torture,
The rallying of rambunctious rascals,
Geared for living life to the fullest, sleep
Just gets in the way.

But on a night like tonight,
There’s something else in the pillows,
The little one sleeps alone
(Though night light shines)
And sledding has kept the big one snoring straight past complaining.

A typical night for the little girl, who
Already values a good night’s rest.


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