Bedroom Wrestling

And not the fun kind.
After The Man's bone- headed (*giggle* bone headed) move two night ago, bedroom wrestling and fun have probably ceased for a good, long time.
Bug woke up in the middle of the night. He decided he wasn't going to sleep in his own bed.
So The Man (insert expletives) brought him to ours.
Instead of realizing that the child would have fallen back to sleep in his own bed if given time, he brought Bug to ours.
Instead of realizing there was a huge size difference, he brought him to ours.
Instead of being the parent in charge, he brought him to ours.
Admittedly, he didn't want the other kids --who would have fallen back to sleep--woken up.
So he brought Bug to our bed.
And the wrestling match ensued.
Bug is not only a bed hog, he's a pillow hog and a snuggler.
I had six inches of the bed and two of my pillow, and I had to kick, scream, and claw for that!
In the middle of the night, Bug rose up from where he was stuck to my side, flopped over on me, and tried to go to sleep. When I reached out to lay him down, he went berserk, flaying, grabbing, and fighting, until I had to wake The Man up for backup.
While he got Bug settled back into bed, I huddled in the corner, pulling out my hair one strand at a time.
If having our oldest sleeping in our bed doesn't give me PTSD, nothing will.