Gibson wakes up at least once an hour to cry out in panic, "Mer! Where are you? I need you!"
Of course I am a foot away, if that.
It's okay. We go right back to sleep.
This morning Owen came and got in bed with us and they giggled and wiggled until I finally said, "Okay, okay. I'll get up."
Got up to note that the heat wasn't on. Nope. Heater not on. Not at all. Nor would it come on.
Checked the gas on the stove. That worked. Started making breakfast. Realized that bacon was not cooking. Checked flame under it. Barely there.
Called Mr. Moon in Georgia. He called the gas guy. Gas guy called. He never sounds happy. He sounded even less happy today. But he's coming over.
Changed breakfast plan to waffles instead of pancakes. Miraculously found waffle maker. Transferred bacon to microwave. Waffles now Owen's favorite food. He ate five.
Gibson cried enough to convince me to let him get back in the bed with my phone to watch videos.
I feel like the best/worst grandmother in the world.
Story of my life.