Middle of their Night

With several little ones, it seems like if I’m not up nursing the baby, someone else is up with a bad dream, or a diaper, or coming down with a cold, or needing a drink of water. . .

Every night I get up at some point with Carissa to change her diaper. Or if I haven’t gone to bed by 12 or 1, I just change her on the way to bed.  (That is another story, but if I don’t change her in the middle of the night, I will have to change her bedding in the morning. When I forget, I pay for it!)

One night last week, it was Mara  calling for me.

“Mommy,” she began, verrrry slowly. “I just . . .  had a dream. And it was . . . not-so-good.”

“What was it about?”

“Wellllll. . . [very slowly, rubbing her bleery eyes] . . . there were these. . . GIIIIIIIIIIANT . . . . ” her voice rose an octave saying ‘giant,’ and she didn’t finish.
“Giant what?” I asked mostly out of curiosity. [I was afraid she would fall back asleep before telling me what giant . . . THING. . . was “not-so-good.” And I would always wonder.]
“These giant . . . giant . . .” Still she spoke so slowly I thought she would never say the next word, but then it came: “ANTS! They were right over there,” she pointed to the wall by her bed, then looked down sheepishly as if realizing there were no giant ants.
So I told her ‘See? There are no giant ants!’ and ‘I love you’ and she lay down and went right back to sleep.

Tonight I was in the living room around midnight, and Micah staggered down the top three stairs and peered earnestly down at me.

Instantly a smile of relief spread over his face, and he leaned his head back. “Everything’s okay!” he exclaimed.

“Did you think something wasn’t okay?. . .” and when there was no reply, I hugged him and asked, “Was it a bad dream?”

He sighed a smirk, and sheepishly said, “Yeah.”

There will be a time in just a few short years that I won’t be rocking him any more. And there was a time just a few months ago on bedrest when I couldn’t carry him to his bed.

So I carried him back up to his room and rocked him for a few minutes. . . just because I can.

“Are you gonna be okay now, buddy?” I asked.

His eyes were closed again, thumb in his mouth: “Mm-mm.” Everything’s okay.

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