So my son came running into our bedroom a few nights ago at 3am saying he had a bad dream. He climbed into bed next to me so he could cry at top volume directly on my ear.
When he finally calmed down, I asked sweetly, “What was your dream about?” He started to respond, but I interrupted him. “Was it about me?”
“Was it scary?”
He nodded again.
“Was it about how I was sleeping soundly and peacefully when one of my children came running into my room crying and woke me up and then I completely lost my shit and KILLED EVERY CHILD IN THE ENTIRE WORLD?”
I guess I was right because he hasn’t had a bad dream since…