I had an odd dream last night. I don’t remember much about it, just bits and pieces. In it, I was young and single. Hadn’t gotten married, hadn’t had kids.
I was dating, though. I had a boyfriend. We lived together, and in the dream, he was asleep in a big bed. Like in a movie, the “camera” zoomed in on his face and it was unmistakable: He had Down syndrome.
I looked at his face and remembered that a lot of people had warned me that this relationship could never work. I felt anxious, that feeling you get in dreams where you think, “Oh shit, what have I done, walking naked into my high school cafeteria,” or “Jesus Christ, why didn’t I do my Italian homework for an entire college semester?”
And then I woke up. I looked at the clock: 7:15. Not only had Sophie slept in her big girl bed all night, she’d overslept by 15 minutes. In fact, it was so quiet in there, I wondered if she’d escaped in the night. (Not like her — Sophie would come directly to us if she did get out of bed — I think.)
Then I heard her. “Mommy!”
She didn’t sound anxious, just happy. She loves that new bed, even admonished Ray to get that crib out of her room, ASAP. I don’t blame her. She needs to show off her new rug and her “bubble” sheets. Although I had some trepidation, I highly recommend the IKEA child beds. And Dorcas the physical therapist gave it her mark of approval this morning.
Ray, Sophie, Dorcas and I all stood in Sophie’s room, admiring the bed, savoring the fact that Sophie’d stayed put all night.
Ray looked over at Sophie. “Hey, your panties are on backward!” he said. (I’d allowed it; she’s got a hot pink pair with Marie from Aristocats on what’s supposed to be the butt. Could YOU bear to not look at them all day???)
In unison Dorcas and I said, “She likes them that way!”
It was a good night, weird dreams notwithstanding. But I’m also a believer in beginner’s luck, so I know the nightmare may be coming as Sophie has at least seven hours, EVERY NIGHT, of time to wander, escape, make trouble, hurt herself.