I hear screaming, so I open my eyes and look at the clock. 12:38 a.m. The crying hasn’t stopped, so I stumbled out of bed and through the darkness where I discover the crying is coming from Christopher’s room.
I find my way into his room where I cover him up, rub his back, and tell him it’s ok. He falls back asleep and doesn’t cry out again.
When Christopher comes hopping to bed early the next morning, I ask him about his nightmare. “What were you dreaming about baby? You seemed pretty upset. Did you have a nightmare?”
“Oh yeah Mama, it was horrible. I dreamt Daddy made me do dishes.”