When I went to bed at 9:00, I knew he was still awake in his bed. He'd been in bed for about 40 minutes. Still, I was surprised when he showed up in my room around 9:10.
"Mama, I fall out my Big Boy Bed."
"Well, climb back in, Buddy! Night."
"And my pillow fall too." Pause. "And I'm too yittle to get it."
Nice try, pal. "You're a big boy. Put it in your bed, climb in, and go to sleep."
Off he went. I assumed he'd go right to sleep. Instead, I heard Jingle the Husky Pup ask someone to read to him over the baby monitor. He requested his story several times, but I ignored him. Then I heard some banging, and a crash. I had visions of G hanging by his neck from his big boy bed or some other danger I'd missed. I'm a born worrier.
I dashed off to his room. I left so quickly, I did not grab my glasses. I have really terrible eyesight, so I probably should have snatched them. As I neared his room, I nearly ran into G, who was on his way to mine.
"Mama, there's a dinosaur in my room!"
"G, there is NOT a dinosaur in your room." I took him by the hand, turned him around, and headed back to his room.
Suddenly, I had a vision of a lizard in G's room. The kid is two and I'm not sure we've ever used the word lizard around him. Perhaps he equated one to a dinosaur, a word in his vocabulary. Fear seized me, and I debated between running back for glasses so I could see a creepy crawly or waking my husband to scour the room for the critter. Then I noticed a big green blob lying on the floor of his room.
It was his play kitchen. The toy had been overturned, its contents spilled on the floor. A lizard must have done that.
"What happened, G?"
"There's a dinosaur," he replied, then opened his toddler fist.
I knelt down really closely to his hand. Adrenaline took over; I was ready to save my child from the creepy crawly. Inside his chubbly little hand was this:
"G, go to bed."