I think Evie had her first dream last night. Well, in her case, she would probably call it a nightmare if she could.
I was sitting at my desk working when I heard her bedroom door open upstairs. She called for me, unable to leave her room because I place a gate there to prevent her from roaming the house in the middle of the night if she wakes up.
From behind the gate, I hear her say “momma!” But she didn’t scream my name like someone was lighting her on fire like she had been doing for the past few months. No, this time it was a sad mixed with angry “momma.” She didn’t normally call me like that in the morning. It’s actually rather amazing (and a tad annoying I’ll be honest) how many meanings the word “mom” can take on depending on how your kids say them:
Mom is a name – I want your attention
Mom is a demand – I want something
Mom is a question – I need to know something
Mom is a complaint – Something is bothering me and I want you to know it
Mom is an exclamation – I see something cool or am excited
Mom is an invitation – I want you to join me
Mom is sheer nothing – I just said mom because I am breathing and wanted you to know that. You must stop everything and acknowledge me.
Anyways, she said “momma” like she needed me to fix something. She sounded sad and a little angry. Making my way upstairs and over to her room, my eyes adjust to the dim light as I see her there in the doorway. She had her head rested on her arm that lay on top of the gate. Like she had fallen back asleep. Hearing me, she lifted her head and put her arm out in front of her, stopping me. She said “no pop pop. don’t eat it. mine.” Then she started to whimper.
In case you don’t know Evie-speak, she is saying to “not eat the popsicle. It’s hers.”
Evie must have had a dream that someone was trying to eat her popsicle and she was NOT happy about it. She is extremely fond of popsicles. It’s pretty much her favorite food. It’s the first thing she asked for when she wakes up in the morning and from that point on, she will try and coax more popsicles out of me or anyone else in the family as the day progresses. She will open the freezer herself, open a popsicle and then run around the house getting as many licks in as she can as you chase her. I think Evie would eat a box a day if I let her. She’s maxed out on 3 so far (and that was a product of her tricking Vince into believing she hadn’t had any that day). Part of me wants to let her go all out and have her eat so many in one day that she gives them up. Kind of like having a smoker chain smoking cigarettes until they get sick, so they’ll quit the habit. But I haven’t gone that route yet.
The point is, someone eating her “pop pop” is a horrendous event in her eyes and she must have dreamed that someone did. I tried to comfort her the best I could, but I don’t think 2-year-olds can understand the concept of a dream just yet. She snuggled her little curly bed hair head into my shoulder and calmed down after a few seconds of me shushing her and telling her it was ok; it was just a dream.
“Pop pop?” she asked.
Of course, Evie girl. You can have a pop pop. And I promise you no one will eat it. They’re all sleeping anyways.