Dora in Dreamland

I was jolted awake at 3:04 am by Baboo’s cries; the kind of cry that makes me hurry. Half awake, I fumble for my glasses in the dark, trying NOT to knock over my half full glass of water, slide them on my face as I hit the carpet running – ok, hobbling, as my feet just aren’t working yet.

As I walk into her room and see her little body shaking and sobbing by the glow of the nightlight, I call out “Mama’s here. What’s wrong?”

I sit on the side of her toddler bed and gather her into my arms, rocking a little to settle her down. She snuggles in tight against me, and is still crying, when I ask “Did you have a bad dream? Do you want to talk about it?” She nods against my chest with a deep sob.

Baboo leans away from me a bit, and starts to wail “Fwiper took my fwip-fwop! And he hided it!”
I wait for my tired brain to interpret what she’s said and then repeat “Swiper took your flip-flop? Is that what your dream was about?”

“Y.Y.Y.esssss” she wails, “And that’s NOT NICE! I want it back!”

“Oh, that ISN’T nice”, I empathize. Then I point to a spot on the carpet and exclaim that I see it. I reach down to the imaginary spot and pick up the imaginary flip-flop and hand it back to Baboo, who pretends to take it in her hand.

After a little cuddle, her cries turn into little hiccuppy sobs, and I lay her back down on her pillow, get her blankie and fill her water sip cup up with water. As I’m giving her a kiss I say “You just tell that Swiper; Swiper NO SWIPING!”

“Ok, Mama. I say dat” she says.

As I’m leaving the room, I hear a quiet “Fwiper, NO FWIPIN’!”

I can’t help but smile.

I pad down the hall to our bedroom and climb back into bed. I settle back into my comfy spot and close my eyes with a sigh, waiting for sleep to come. But after a few minutes, I’m still lying there. It’s 3:15 am. I’m wide awake.

Oooohhhh maaaaannnnn.