On vacation, we usually end up in two beds, with one adult and one child in each bed. It works pretty well, much better than trying to convince two rowdy kids to go to sleep and stay that way.

In the mornings, the rule is that we stay quiet until everyone is awake. That way, at least one of the adults has a chance at getting a full night’s sleep.

The other morning, however, my youngest and I woke up in a pillow fight. I don’t really know who swung the first pillow. It just happened.

“Shh,” my wife hissed from her bed. “He’s still asleep!”

We lay back down, trying not to giggle too loudly. Then my pillow swung around and hit the little guy on the head.

He giggled and bopped me back. We shush’ed each other and lay still.

I saw the silhouette of my wife sit up, but we were as still and quiet as we could be.

She lay back down.

Bop. My son got me first this time. I bopped him back.

“Ah-ha,” my oldest shouted, sitting up. “I was tricking you!”

We threw our pillows at him, knocking him over. He bounced up laughing, and we had a full-on pillow fight: three people, six pillows, two beds.

Soon I was out of pillows. “Whatever you do,” I shouted. “Don’t hit Momma!”

Two heads swiveled toward their momma. She grabbed her own pillow and swung.

“Wow,” my youngest said. “You’re pretty good – for a momma!”

Dangerous words, to say the least.

I quietly walked to the bathroom as the battle roared to life.