There we were: mommy-pig, one-and-a-half-year-old baby girl, baby girl's stuffed, white unicorn with rainbow mane, and myself, the insomniac daddy-pig, sleeping or trying to sleep in the quiet of the master bedroom. The only sounds were mommy's even breathing, the steady white-noise of the warm air coming from the vent on the ceiling, and air being forced past the boogers in baby girl's little nose. Then, in the still darkness, I hear baby inhale as if to sigh and whisper, "Ticken wys." She was dreaming of the chicken and rice we had for dinner. via /r/Parenting https://ift.tt/35rt35z
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