Sleeptalking Gets Racy

I've been debating whether I should share Steve's sleeptalking from last night.  I've decided you're old enough to handle it and that you won't be scandalized.  So, here it is.  Last night I was lying awake musing on the ethics of using a staple gun to keep small boys in their seats at church when Steve rolled over (here's the racy bit) and patted me on the bottom.  We're going to have to make cutbacks here, he announced.  Twenty percent here (pat).  Thirty percent here (pat). We've got to try to save this (pat, pat).

During the course of the night, he also claimed to be saving Indians, decided to crack open the cream cheese, and declared that he knows racism when he sees it.  None of that involved my backside, though.