Don't TRY me, son. Who do you think you got your will FROM?
Because "it makes 37 seem young" is as good a reason as any!

And that, my friends, is poor consolation indeed.

Saturday night Clay and I went to bed, after watching a somewhat depressing movie, expecting a normal night's sleep, followed by the usual Sunday morning chaos. We were like innocent little lambs.

It started at 1 AM, just long enough to have fallen soundly asleep and be confused and alarmed when Raphael appeared at the side of the bed. He was FREAKED OUT.

"I was ASLEEP? and I heard a BUZZING? and I saw a BEE? and I looked at my PILLOW? and it WAS COVERED WITH BEES! AND THAT WAS THE BUZZING!"

"Wha?" I said. "Tha...bah...wha?"


I blinked at him in the dark. That seemed to be less than helpful, because he gave an irritated sigh, and proceeded to squirm under the covers and fit his body next to me. I patted him and muttered extremely loving and comforting random syllables, and went back to sleep. He, however, was having none of it. He squirmed and kicked and fussed. Finally, I woke up enough to actually talk to him. We discussed his dream, I assured him it WAS a dream, even though it seemed very real, and yes, even though he woke up in the dream.

"You were DREAMING you were waking up. Not actually waking up."

"How do you know? You were asleep the first three times I told you about it."

"Trust me."

Eventually I took him back down to his room. Together we checked his pillow for signs of bees. We looked under the covers and under the bed and behind the books by his bed. No bees. I prayed for him, and kissed the palm of his hand so he could have a kiss to hold. I gave him several proper hugs, told him how very loved he is, tucked him in, and staggered back up the stairs.

As I fell in bed, Clay murmured, "Everything ok with the little guy?"

"He's fine. Bad dream, that's all."


Bad dream with a hefty dose of adrenaline, methinks. Instead of falling asleep, Raphael spent the next TWO HOURS trotting back up the stairs every ten minutes.

"I think I hear buzzing."

"What if there ARE bees in the house?"

"HOW DO YOU KNOW there aren't any bees?"

"I know that bees don't fly at night, but if they were inside, they might get confused. YOU DON'T KNOW."

It was like a marathon of up and down the stairs. What started out as an opportunity to comfort my frightened little boy quickly devolved into a situation wherein Raphael pad-pad-padded up to the bed and I snarled, "WHAT IS IT NOW?"

Finally Clay took him downstairs and helped him identify the sound he was hearing. It was the radon abatement pump, and NO, actually, we CAN'T turn it off. After that, Raphael only had to come up a few more times to tell me he was ok, Dad had told him what the noise was. And then to remind me it was only the radon pump. And again to tell me he wasn't afraid, but now that he thought about it, he didn't much feel like sleeping.

By this point it was around 3 in the morning, and I was getting a little loopy. As the visits tapered off, I started to relax and drift back into genuine sleep.

At 3:11, Clay's work phone rang.

There was a problem of enormous proportions. At least, they seemed to think so. And SIMPLY because Clay is the person in his department who is on call, they seemed to think they could just CALL him like that, willy-nilly. It was totally unfair.

You might think this presented more of a problem for Clay than for me, keeps my feet warm at night. So.

He manfully got dressed and strode out into the inky blackness. I curled under the blankets and muttered foully. Raphael trotted upstairs to tell me that he was fine, and if I wanted, I could read him a book.

Clay came back home about a quarter to seven. As he slid into bed next to me, I looked at the clock and thought, hey, that's right, DAY LIGHT SAVINGS TIME. If there's any consolation here, at least we LOSE AN HOUR OF SLEEP.



Whew! I thought you were going to tell us there were real bees on his pillow. And, bummer you can't get a cat. Mine is a first class foot warmer. Great post!


I was waiting for the "...and there really were bees!" revelation, too. I'm glad that wasn't the case.


For Raphael: duct tape. For Clay's phone: hammer. Any questions?


I'm glad that you actually checked for bees. One time my little girl came in my room to tell me that there was a mouse on her bed. Our cat is a real mouser, so I knew that any mouse that valued its life wouldn't set paw in our house. I assured her there was no mouse, brought her back to her room & laid down with her to help her go back to sleep...without turning on the light, because she shares a room with her sister & I didn't want to wake her up too. After a minute or two, I felt something on my leg, and qhickly reached down to brush whatever it was off. I got off the bed, turned on the light, and there, now on my baby's pillow, beside her head, was a BAT!

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