Since we're different heights and sleep in different positions, the covers on our bed tend to slip and slide around at night. They usually tend to favor me, so Tamsen wakes up at night and tugs on the covers to get them back. (Usually, I'm less than receptive.) In fact, it's to the point where Tamsen has trained herself to pull at the sheets when she feels them sliding away from her.
A couple of nights ago, however, I woke up to find that I was the one who ended up without the covers. Tamsen had three of the corners, and I only had one covering my middle. I floundered about for a bit, trying to find my missing cover, and eventually gave up and started tugging at the sheets. Tamsen, still asleep, felt the sheets being pulled away from her and started pulling back. Not to be outdone, I pulled even harder. We ended up in a bit of a tug-of-war until Tamsen sort of woke up and realized that half of the blanket had flopped over her and onto the floor. Somewhat sheepishly, she let me have my blanket again. Of course, I wasn't happy about this, so I flopped back to my side of the bed, cursing inwardly. As I went back to sleep, I thought to myself, "Freaking Tamsen Three-Corners," congratulating myself on the clever, alliterative insult I'd come up with.
It was only after I'd woken up that I realized that "Tamsen Three-Corners" was neither clever nor alliterative. She, of course, found this tremendously funny when I told her the following morning.