Jon is going through that stage where he has bad dreams. Poor little guy. Sometimes he’ll tell us about them and sometimes he won’t. A lot of times he just wants us to lie down with him, he doesn’t want to be alone, and I can’t say I blame him.
Last night he had another horrible one. I had already abandoned my room after The Hubs had begun snoring so loud that Achilles was howling outside our bedroom window. It was ridiculous. I crashed out in Hannah’s room. But around 1 a.m. Calvin the Problem Cat decided to have a party in her room. Hannah can sleep through anything. So he didn’t bother her one bit. But I thought I was going to lose my mind. I got up and scolded Calvin who only poked his head out from under Hannah’s dresser and smirked at me. I swear.
That’s when I heard Jon murmuring in his sleep. I went in and he was tossing and turning, obviously having a bad dream. I lay down next to him and hugged him, “Mama’s here, ‘lil man. Mama’s here.” He settled down and seemed to fall back into a restful sleep. I crashed out next to him since I figured The Hubs wasn’t going to stop snoring anytime soon.
The next morning he came stumbling into the living room long after the rest of us had gotten up and curled up with a blanket. The Hubs laid down on the floor with him.
“I had another bad dream.” Jon said.
“I’m sorry, buddy.”
“I dreamed we were driving to Florida but you were cooking in the truck so there was no room for me.” He went on.
“I was cooking in the truck?” my husband asked. Seemed like a legitimate question.
“Yes, and there was no room for me, so I had to ride on top. We turned a corner and I fell off.”
Wow, that is a bad dream.