Demon Baby has an incredible capacity to make up extraordinary stories. We have a dragon under our staircase, and he speaks to space people. He has robots all over the house, and he takes apart anything and everything he can to use the parts to create his robots. I guess then it would be only natural that his dreams would be fairly creative.
And his nightmares.
The poor little guy suffers from night terrors. If you don't know what these are, they are nearly impossible to soothe him through. I am the only one in the house with the stamina to get through it, which means rocking him for sometimes as long as thirty minutes, the whole while this little guy is in the throes of raw terror. But he doesn't remember them.
Now, however, he has real nightmares. And they are doozies. His new nightmare of choice, which means he comes into my bed at 2:00 a.m., terrified, is there are leprachauns under his bed that eat little boys. Now, to me, leprachauns are little men with big belt buckles who bring gold. But not so for Demon Baby. Apparently, they are cannibals.
The amazing thing, of course, is his mind, developing and full of creativity. It is a reminder to me of how extraordinary the world of children is. How special they are. A reminder to me to be so grateful. Across the world, there are children having nightmares who aren't soothed. Or children so weak from hunger they likely don't dream. Not the way my child does.
His nightmares are a reminder to me he sleeps someplace safe and warm with people who love him. And how very lucky we are.