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in the middle of the night, paul migrated to my bed. not a big deal -- a fairly common occurrence. but what made this so noteworthy was that not only did he manage to shove both his father and myself to the far edges of the bed by turning perpendicular to us, but he managed to push his two little footie pajama-clad feet into my chest hard enough to knock me off my bed and into his bed... twice.

no, my son will not play soccer, nor will he be a kicker. i forbid it.



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