“In My Sleep”


Samantha sat beside me as I nursed Seth, and she searched for ways to stall the approaching bedtime.

“Mama.  I’m thirsty.  I need water.  And chocolate milk.”

“Sam-baby, my hands are full.  You’ll need to go talk to your daddy about this.”

And so she skipped out of the room to where her daddy was making ready her bed.

A few minutes later, she returned, silent, sad.  She scrunched into the recliner, with tears in her eyes.

“Samantha, what’s wrong?” I asked, concerned as she so rarely cries.

With a sob caught in her throat, she responded, “Daddy won’t let me have anything to drink.”

I called out for Joshua, beginning to get upset.

Here’s the missing scene:

Samantha skips into the room as Josh fights with the fitted sheet.   “Daddy!  I can’t drink in my sleep!”

Daddy responded:  “You’re right.  You can’t.”

And so she left, her heart shattered.

Is the world in my children’s heads as skewed as the glimpses I’m getting?

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