The Dream Police

Last night, The Babe wakes up at some incomprehensible hour and comes padding into our bedroom. He announces "I peed in my pants".

Now, this isn't normal. But, we went to bed last night a little later than usual so he was off his normal potty routine. No big.

It took me a minute to properly wake up and tromp behind the little guy, who, on the way, added that he thought his bed was wet.

When we arrived at his room, I was grateful the "feel test" revealed absolutely no pee on the bed.* His pants, and, close relatives, undies, were slightly waterlogged.

We removed all the damaged goods and put them aside, replacing them, after a quick wipe down, with Scooby Doo pajamas and fresh underwear.

When I tucked him in he started giggling. Then the conversation went like this:

ME: "What are you laughing at?"
The Babe: "My dream."
ME: "What happened?"
The Babe: "Well, I was walking around and all the sudden I saw a bunch of people peeing. Then I woke up with wet pants." Now he's really giggling. And I've joined him.

There's just something so whacked about coming up on a renegade group of people who have decided, en masse, to publicly use the bathroom. And, even more whacked, that a four year old would dream it.

Tonight I'm working on conjuring up a dream of my own. In it, I end up at lottery headquarters in Austin, claiming the bazillion dollar prize. At the end of the dream, I'm sleeping on a bed covered from head to foot board in $100 bills.

I'm wondering if I'll have as much success with my dream as The Babe had with his....


*Options? Turn on the lights, blind both of us, and wake a four-year-old up after midnight, which spells certain death and/or no more sleep, OR just feel the bed. I'm all into lazy in the wee hours of the night.