Reasons # 1,067 and #1,068 of How Kids Slowly Kill You.

1067. Sunday morning, 2:27 am. Michaela creeps into our bedroom.
"Mom!" she whispers.
"What?" I mumble.
"Can you check me for ticks? I'm feeling kind of ... itchy."
Okay, I tell her, only because we have been playing outside in Dutchess County, known for its robust deer tick population.
"Why aren't you moving?" she asks me a few seconds later.
"Because I'm trying to wake up."

The next night Dan tells Michaela, who was thankfully tick-free, to only come into our bedroom again if ticks are literally sucking the blood out of her eyeballs.

1068. Tuesday morning, 7:30am. First, a little background.
Alec has just started in the last month or so sleeping past 5:30am. For almost two years he woke up around the same time, looking for his bottle, and while he would fall fast asleep again, I usually would stay up, enjoying holding my sleeping boy and catch up on news. It was quiet and peaceful and sometimes I would doze on and off until the girls woke up around 7am.
As nice as that was, it is nowhere near as nice as Alec staying asleep and me being able to sleep until 7 am, uninterrupted.
So now the girls wake up first and come and find me in bed, sometimes climbing in and snuggling up for a few minutes before we start the getting ready for school routine. Very sweet.
Michaela asked a few days ago if I could do her hair on the last day of school with wired braids, so she would look like Pippi Longstocking. I gave a lukewarm response, something deliciously non-committal (they teach you how to do this in the hospital after giving birth) and let it go at that.
So here it is, the last day of school, and Michaela comes jumping in my bed at 7:25am. "Hey! Can you do my hair this morning in the braids with the wire? I was going to wake you up at 7 and then thought you might like to sleep a little longer."
"Smart girl," I tell her. "I'll try to do the braids. Go look for the wire."
So I get up, Jenna gets up, Michaela gets up and we head downstairs. Michaela has found the wire with minimal assistance (a miracle in itself) and gets dressed (another miracle) and I sit with the wire and figure out how to do this project. I cut four strands of wire to equal length, put her hair in pigtails, bend the wire so it doesn't poke her in the head, wrap the wire around the underneath part of the pigtail holder. I do a tight, twisty braid and secure the end with another hair tie. I bend the pigtail, and VIOLA- a Pippi Longstocking braid. I repeat the whole process- wire, hair tie, braid, and hair tie- and bend the other end. I have her spin and show me.
She looks adorable.
I am quite pleased with myself.
Go look in the mirror, I tell her.
She goes and looks.
I look ridiculous, she says, and takes the braids, hair ties and wires out and decides to just wear her hair down for the last day of school.