The Pillow Tower

We have two living room couches, two pillows per couch. Each morning, with the occasional exception, I find all four pillows neatly stacked one on top of the other. Always on the same couch. It's not the work of some mischievous ghost or galactic alien visitor.

It's the handiwork of Alyzabeth...

More strange than the nightly pillow ritual itself is my near total lack of awareness of the stacking event as it occurs. It must be that I've witnessed it so many times I've become oblivious to the most obvious. Especially so since she sits on one the pillows during the reading of our bedtime story. And unless the fourth pillow has grown feet, someone is putting the finishing touches on the pillow tower at the conclusion of "they all lived happily ever after."

I could worry she suffers from one of the maladies more often identified in 4 capital letters or less. However, I'm more inclined to see it as the simple workings of a child's mind at play and a father's mind, shall we politely say, gone visiting. Which gives pause to my thinking, what else am I'm missing?! I don't even want to think about it.

For now, I'm content enjoying the mystical morning pillow tower...
peace
fm