My husband stayed up later than usual so we could watch the season finale of The Walking Dead close to live. Because he knows what's good for him.
(Side note the first: Monday morning, my FB news feed was not full of spoilers, which it totally would've been if we'd waited until Monday night to watch it. I don't know if this is a quirk of FB's algorithms, or my friends.)
(Side note the second: I was prepared to watch it without him, which is now considered a form of adultery. I've managed to wait for him when it comes to The Gilmore Girls, but there are limits.)
So this meant that he had to go straight to bed after watching all the disgusting zombieness. So I made up a bedtime story to help him sleep.
Me: Little Bunny Foo Foo hopped through the forest, bopping all the zombies on the head.
Him: And then down came the good fairy and she said...
Me: "Good job!"
Him: "Those zombies had it coming."
Me: "But you should really hook up with Bunny FiFi so you have someone to watch your back. Bopping zombies is dangerous." So Bunny Foo Foo made friends with Bunny FiFi and they had lots of hot bunny sex and made lots of bunny babies so they could all hop through the forest and bop the zombies on the head. The end.
Somehow, he still didn't sleep well that night. (I know, right?) Next time, Bunny Foo Foo will bop insomnia on the head.