I stumbled out of my room this morning to find Emme (age 15) asleep on the couch in the Family Room. My coffee making escapades caused her to stir. I assumed she wasn’t feeling well, as this was Monday, which means ANOTHER HOMESCHOOL WEEK HAS BEGUN, and she is a well known hypochondriac when it comes to school work. Alas, no, she reported that a bad dream had caused her to move out of her cozy warm bed to relocate to the ice cold leather sofa.
As the day wore on, I discovered that the cause of her bad dreams was her sister’s American Girl (knock-offs) dolls which still sit perched high atop the armoire in their room. It seems that a certain blonde doll attacked an unsuspecting Emme in her dreams. It was one of those dreams where the villain in question is walking all zombie-like, and you are running at break-neck speed and yet you can’t get away…
After a particularly trying day of homeschooling (as most Mondays are), it was at long last time for lights out. I had to coax Emme off the comforts of the couch with assurances that a good nights sleep in her own comfy bed was what she needed.
This is what greeted her when she crawled into bed.
I know. It’s probably wrong. But parenting paybacks are best served tepid. With a side of paranoia.