It's what, 10:00, 11:00? Friday night. Boys snug in their beds, mom and dad partying like rock stars. Then, oops, I stumble out my bedroom door and run into this (Tsega) about three feet away on the kitchen floor.
No jammies. That is the usual way we find Tsega by morning. But in his room, sometimes our bed, not usually in the kitchen.
Party on, Sira.