Why oh why does Boy Terror insist on getting up twice a night to visit me? Am I really that fun at 2 am? I don't think so! I know that at one time, many moons ago, 2 am was just the start of the fun part of the day for me. But those days are long gone. Now I am swathed in flannel, my hair looks like a rats nest, and I am certainly not glowing with friendliness. Yet he persists in checking on me to see if I am still aware of his cuteness, even though I can barely see straight.