This morning at 5:45 a.m., my child woke up, ran out of his room and started calling for me. That's not normal. Usually he's a 7-7:15 a.m. kind of waker-upper.
I got up and he ran into my room. The minute he saw me he started crying. "Daddy won't let me have my birthday party. He told me I couldn't have any cake, and he took it away!"
Okay, since my son's birthday is in the winter, this is a dream. Except it was a dream that scared him. MacTroll tried to comfort him, but X-man moved away from him shouting, "You are not my friend any more, Daddy!"
How to explain the subconscious to a 4 year old? That it wasn't a premonition. That it wasn't reality. That perchance if he went back to sleep he'd have a happy dream...
But no, he was up. Scared. Whining. Crying. And in a terrible mood.
So, he ate breakfast. MacTroll went to the airport. Then I took him with me to get my blood drawn at Carle for a lipid test. I got poked, but he got to leave with a sheet of Marvel Hero stickers.
And I did something I don't normally do... I bribed him. "If you take a nap during naptime at school and actually sleep -- I'll take you to McDonald's for dinner."
Because holy cow, if I get an overtired X-man back after having crazy dream freakout this a.m., it's going to be a terrible evening. If he sleeps, he'll get McDonald's and Little Gym and be out by 8:30 p.m. and all will be okay in the world.