Ninja Night Invader

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“No one ever died from sleeping in an unmade bed. I have known mothers who remake the bed after their children do it because there is wrinkle in the spread or the blanket is on crooked. This is sick.”




“My second favorite household chore is ironing. My first one being hitting my head on the top bunk bed until I faint.”

Erma Bombeck (thanks to the Daze of Us for bringing these quotes to my attention!)


For the last three nights Dos has played Ninja Night Invader. (I never knew this game was call Ninja Night Invader until right now, when I got all caught up in the joy of alliteration! This title will be handed down to the generations.)


Curious about how to play Ninja Night Invader? In the wee hours of the night, when mom and dad’s eyelids are twitching in deep REM sleep, slide your pint-sized body along the side of the bed, slowly ease back the covers, and sneak in without detection.


If you can make it into the bed without anyone noticing, you get 20 points. If you can stay in the bed until morning without being booted, another 20 points. If you accidentally tickle the back of your mom’s neck with your crazy flyaway hair, causing her to believe there is a spider crawling on her in the dead of the night and leading to a violent leap out of bed while thrashing wildly and emitting a high-pitched hoot… well, that earns you a solid 10 point bonus.


Dos has earned over 100 points in this game over the last three days.


Let me be clear. There is no room in the bed for Dos. Even though we have the bassinet set up for Bubby to sleep beside the bed, he mostly hangs out in the space between our pillows in a co-sleeping arrangement. One wouldn’t think an 8-lbs. peanut could take up much room, but when that baby is sleeping, he spreads himself out with abandon.


In order to avoid squishing him, I have been clinging to the side of the bed like a barnacle.


The first night Dos played Ninja Night Invader and was rebuffed by the lack of space on my side of the bed, she just lifted the covers from the bottom of the bed and crawled in, tucking her toes against my lower back.


I woke up in the morning feeling vaguely violated.


The next night she slipped into the bed from the bottom again, but I caught her and booted her from the bed at the next nocturnal meal time. (Only 20 points for the night.)


Last night I caught her as she padded into the room and yanked at the sheets around my feet. “No!” I whisper-howled at her. “You can’t come in here! You need to be in your own bed!”


She began to cry and told me she’d had a dream a shark bit her tummy off and she was left floating in the water with just flapping legs, arms and an exposed spine.


Would someone tell her father this is the result of Shark Week viewings???


I relented and said she still had to go to her own bed but that I would come with her and snuggle her until she went back to sleep. (20 Ninja Night Invader points for Mommy!)


When I slid under her sheets I figured out why she’s been trying to get into our bed – hers was full of sand!


I’m not sure what dump truck she’s been using to cart grainy substances into her sleeping space but trying to crawl in was like getting an all-over sugar scrub. It didn’t smell as good as a spa service.


This morning when we got up I announced it was time to change the sheets. She was relieved.


I received only a mild concussion from smacking my head on the top bunk three times while installing her Dora the Explorer sheets.


This may mean she scores a full 50 points if a game of Ninja Night Invader takes place tonight.


I’m going to hope for the best and assume the kid will stay in her own space, non-exfoliated and burying her nose in a pillow smelling of fresh fabric softener.


We’ll see.


How old were you when you stopped sneaking into your parents’ bed when you had a bad dream?



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