I've stayed up late chatting with our last Christmas guest and Butterbain has taken up residence on my side of the bed. I smile in the dark, knowing butterbain's presence is evidence of his cunning and useful smile. I skooch him over, making room for myself on the edge, ease under the heavy quilts and turn to hug him up. Dreaming deep he turns to me, as does mainbain, and as I drift off to sleepy town, I realize I have no idea which arm belongs to my 5 year old baby, which one is mine and which one is mainbain's.
My last conscious thought is how sweet it is to be tangled up together. Not fully able to parse where I end and us begins.