Getting over the four shots of DHE I had yesterday, my stomach roils angrily and my head still hurts just enough to be annoying. I’m spending another day in bed, at least partially.
Zo sleeps part of the night with us, invariably. So I was none too thrilled when X wandered in at 3 am saying she’d had a nightmare. Squeezed in between 2 snoring daughters, I finally managed to get X back to her bed. But 2 hours later she was back. Her dad returned her long, limp form to her bedroom once he was awake for the day.
Just now X came in, dressed for school, in a new long-sleeved black shirt with sparkly stones her aunt had given her; along with khaki pants. The long long hair I’d just cut hung nicely to her shoulders.
“Mama!” She said. “You know how I had two bad dreams last night?” I said yes, and she went on “Well they combinded into one dream, kind of, and then turned happy because I got that Furby I want for Christmas.” I smiled at her.
“So it turned into a good dream, but then bad, because you didn’t actually have it when you woke up.” I surmised.
“Exactly!” She said as she tuned to exit my dark bedroom. Then over her shoulder she added “It was the peacock one.”
There’s nothing like Christmas when you’re 8… especially when Santa has never been an issue. I just adore that child.