This Is the Stuff Dreams Are Made Of

As I've made quite clear on many occassions, I don't take kindly to be woken in the middle of the night by my children if it's for something utterly *silly* like Ella missing the broken pacifier she likes to rub on things while sucking her thumb (I mean, she's FOUR) or for glasses of water (if I can make it through an entire night without water, so can they!). I need about 14 hours of sleep to function properly, and since that's never, ever going to happen, the least the girls can do is allow me to get the 7 hours of sleep I DO manage to get without interrupting me in tears because daddy turned the box fan off in Ella's room (which made sense to me since it was freezing cold in there). This might sound harsh, but I'm actually pretty lax about most parenting things (have you heard Ella's mouth lately??), so I figure it's okay if I'm a stickler about one thing.

This morning at 5:00 marks one of the first times in history I've come back from being called out of bed by one of my children actually *laughing*. Sadie had started crying, and I went in her room to see what was wrong. I hear something about "cake" but she's crying so hard that I don't understand. I ask her what's wrong. She replies: "You guys are eating pancakes, and I really want some but you won't let me have any."

I assured her that she was just dreaming and should go back to sleep. Then I walked back to bed chuckling to myself. Now we know what a two-year-old dreams about. In Sadie's little world, this is what qualifies as a "nightmare." If I had superpowers, I'd do everything I could to keep it that way.