When she finally passes out, I put her in her own bed and I put the comfy pillow back with her stuffed animals.
Usually she wakes up again at about 4 or 5 am and I carry her back to our bed to sleep the rest of the morning.
One time I laid her in our bed and tucked her under the covers. Then, in a suffering, pathetic sort of voice, she reached up and croaked, "Comfy pillow..."
It cracked me up. Imagine someone dying of thirst in a hot, dry desert pleading for "water..." That's what it was like. Only in her case, her plea was for even more comfort than she already had.
( This comic's Patreon "Special Thanks" goes to Nikki H! )