Sleep is in high demand amongst the Gingers. Last night the boys headed to bed around 8:30pm; we have this silly assumption that one day they’ll put their actual beds to good use. One slept on the floor of his room while the other made a nest of the pile of unfolded clean laundry (don’t judge) on the floor in my bedroom. When I come upstairs for what I expect will be a wonderful night’s sleep, I nearly trip on Ginger3 and decide to go check on everyone else. Ginger1 is comfortably sleeping in her own bed. Ginger2 found a spot amongst her dirty laundry on the floor of her own bedroom, and Ginger4 found his way to his bed. Off to bed I went. Around 1, my internal clock wakes me up to drag a groggy Ginger4 to the bathroom. After successfully convincing him the toilet is a better target than the sink, he heads back to bed, this time on his bedroom floor. I mosey back to bed to a snoring Oldest Ginger (I won’t tell you who that one is specifically, but you can use your best guess!). And it was useless– I couldn’t fall asleep. I get up and head to my favorite second dwelling– the couch downstairs. On my way, I decide to check on the other gingers, discovering Ginger1’s empty bed. What the heck!? I look around the house, unable to find her. I head back into my room to find her snuggled next to Ginger3 on the pile of clean laundry. (The Gingerdog likes this spot too– maybe I am missing out on something!– again, no judging!) Instead of going downstairs, I resolve to sleep in Ginger1’s bed. A short time later, right after I fell back to sleep, Ginger1 flips on the bedroom light. (Have I mentioned they all sleep with the lights on, too?) She crawls into her bed with me, smooshing me against the cold wall. I can’t sleep with the lights on, nor can I sleep against a cold wall (where, by the way, I am closer to GingerDad’s snoring), so up I went to greet the day and drink a whole carafe of coffee.