nice

Last night I mixed up a smoothie for my family - a variety of fruits, with spinach and carrots. It wasn't delicious, but it wasn't awful. For dinner we had cinnamon rolls. Perhaps it wasn't my most defining mothering moment - but I didn't figure it was all that bad either...

Until I woke up in the middle of the night with a crazy dream. (Apparently my subconscious thought there was some sort of monster under the bed and he was hungry for my toes. No lie.) I shook it off and then woke up to another one. And then I woke up to Squísh and her bad dream. At that point I started doubting the cinnamon roll decision. 

I went into Squísh's room and brushed her hair with my fingers. (She has that soft two year old baby hair.) I asked about her dream, but she refused to tell me, she just pointed to the glowing light on the smoke detector by the door. (The same light got to Erik a couple years ago.) I told her it was the doorbell to a fairy house... and then told her all she needed to know about the fairy living there - her silvery wings, her soft voice, and how she makes cookies for her fairy children. Squísh was wide awake now - and whispering me sweet nothings. "What is her name? That is a nice fairy. Tinkerbell is a fairy. You are a nice mom, Mom." I told her she was the nicest Squísh in all the land. 

We talked for a little more - about Christmas, and how it is over. And dreams and families. (She listed off all the members of our family - and told me how each one was nice.) But then she got tired and started drifting off to sleep. It worked well... because Em was waking up and wanted to eat. So I kissed Squísh goodnight and went in to feed Em. 

It was quite a night. Luckily Steve was home for the day, and he took the pirates in the early morning. Later, when I woke up, he told me all about the crazy dreams he'd had. I found it hilarious. There's probably a real good reason cinnamon rolls are for breakfast.