Sometime around 3am the other night...
Keane jolted up in bed and reached across to grab my legs. Having almost scared the poo right out of me, I barked at him, "AHHH! WHAT are you doing?!"
"Oh sorry, I thought Liv was falling out of bed. I was trying to grab her."
Liv doesn't even sleep in our bed, mind you. In a huff, I rolled over and tried to get comfortable again, squirming around until I found my cocoon.
Groggy and still mostly asleep, Keane had the gall to say, "I'm going to need you to calm down."
"Ugh, whatever Keane," I responded while giving him the side eye. I get very defensive in the dark, I'll have you know.
Then, as if out of some Russian mob scene, he calmly (and creepily) said, "Just call me Sarkovsky."
I'm sorry, WHO? WHAT? I can't even...