Epilogue Georgia
G,
Don’t sleep in too late. Santa plans an early visit and wants those sweet cream buns for breakfast.
-Freema
Little feet pounced on the bed, waking her. Someone giggled in her ear. Tiny fingers—wet, how were they wet?—poked at her lips.
“Mommy? Are you awake?” More giggling.
Little monster.
“No. I am soundly asleep,” Georgia said.
“But you’re talking.” A weight settled above her, sitting directly over her bladder and the fluffy end bit of a tail brushed at her nose.
“I’m sleep talking. It’s a thing.”
“But Santa Claus came! Please, can you wake up? Pretty please?” Persistence bounced and that was the end of that game. Georgia had to pee like her life depended on it.
“Get off me, munchkin. Go wake up your father.” Georgia gently removed Persistence, dismayed to
