To Sleep or Not To Sleep

We invited one of the children to sleep in our bed one night.
We've done that from time to time, it generally turns out all right. Now.
Waaaaay back when we had one and two kiddos, we used to let them sleep with us quite often.
But then we had three. And four. It seemed like the more kiddos we had, the less restful each one was. This resulted in our bed not being shared so much.

The most recent decision to allow the child in our bed happened in a cruelly deceptive way. She was being cute. Totally, completely, irresistibly cute.  She was throwing her arms around our necks for big squeezy hugs. She was kissing our cheeks. She was asking us to read her a book, and then interacting rather sweetly.
She made darling faces with smiles and a crinkled up nose. She giggled. She rubbed my cheek with her hand. She told Daddy "I love you". She was calm, quiet, and sweet.
Then, when I laid down and was waiting for Mr. TheZoo to be ready for bed, and to be ready to cart the child to her own bed, she snuggled down next to me. She covered herself up and announced "I sleep Mommy."
She lay still and quiet. She closed her eyes and snuggled close.
The little liar!
So Mr. TheZoo said, "Awww, how sweet! She can stay here tonight. We don't do this often, and we're
at the end of the little kids. We'll miss these opportunities when they're gone."

He'd forgotten! But I was fooled, too. I didn't insist. I let it go.
We fell asleep, the cozy little trio, all warm and snuggly.

And then.

I woke up being pummeled in my stomach by two tiny, stone like objects. It was awful. I opened my eyes ready to swing at whatever it was.
Of course, it was the little bundle of freakin' cute laying her darling head over her daddy's belly and repeatedly kicking mine!
I did what any sane Mom would do in the middle of the night. I moved her legs, brought her head to the pillow and scooted a couple of inches over.
That lasted about half an hour.
Every half hour that night, I had to remove kicking feet from my person.
I was soon on the edge of my bed, fighting my two year old for a piece of my blanket.

I spent the entire next day groggy, grouchy and generally not feeling well. I'm blaming all of this on that cute kid.
All of it!
She's never going to sleep in our bed again!
Unless, of course, she brings me a book and kisses my cheek...