This morning, my son crawled into our bed around four o'clock. Rather than haul him back to bed, I sleepily pulled him under the comforter and wrapped my arms around him. We both drifted off to sleep again. When the alarm went off at five, I woke quickly, but my son slumbered on. I nudged him awake, asking him to go use the bathroom, since nothing is worse than an accidental, uh, accident, which has been known to happen in the early morning hours.

Poor kid got my Circadian rhythm, and gets his heaviest sleep right when it's time to get up.

He came back to our bed after using the bathroom, and snuggled back in. He smiled up at me and said "Mommy! I was having the most wonderful dream! I was in a beautiful field with you and Daddy and the girls and Grandpa and Grandma and we were running around picking flowers and fishing in the stream and we were camping under the stars and it was so great." He sighed.

"That does sound like the most wonderful dream!" I whispered, smiling into his sleep softened face.

"And THEN YOU WOKE ME UP AND RUINED IT! And now I can't get back there. YOU WOKE ME UP. AND RUINED ALL MY DREAMS!"

Oh, uh. Hmm. I felt stung by his blunt summary of the situation. I patted him on the back and sort of rocked him, thinking that he might settle down. He continued to mutter in my arms. "Best dream ever. Woke me up. Ruined it. I'm thinking camping and then suddenly I'm sitting on the toilet. Woke me up for that. And now my dream is gone forever! FOREVER!"

That's me, you know. The one who goes around forcing people onto toilets and crushing dreams. I'm just good like that.