The day I turned Saturday morning into advanced blanket architecture

Mom left for her Pilates thing at 7 AM. I know because I watched her grab the purple mat and whisper 'be good' like I had other plans. I did have other plans.

The bed looked wrong without her in it. Too flat. Too organized. The blue blanket was just lying there doing nothing, so I fixed it. Pulled one corner toward the foot of the bed, then the other corner up near the pillows. Engineering. Roxie would call it chaos, but Roxie doesn't understand construction.

Took me forty-seven minutes to get it right. The blanket had to be positioned exactly so I could burrow underneath but still keep my nose out for important smells. Like the coffee brewing three apartments down, or the fact that someone was making bacon on the second floor.

I tested the structural integrity by spinning in three circles, then settled in right where Mom usually puts her feet. The morning sun hit the bed at the perfect angle, and the whole apartment was quiet except for the radiator making that clicking sound it makes when it's thinking.

This was premium nap territory. The kind where you close your eyes and everything goes soft and warm, and you don't even dream because being awake in this spot is better than any dream.

Then I heard Mom's keys in the door. She took one look at me and started laughing. Not the 'oh no what did you do' laugh. The good laugh. The one that makes her eyes crinkle up.

She sat on the edge of the bed and scratched behind my ears without making me move. 'Did you have a good morning, buddy?' she asked, like she couldn't see the obvious architectural improvements I'd made to her sleeping situation.

I shifted over exactly one inch so she'd know she could join my blanket fort if she asked nicely. She did.