Last night sometime after I’d gone to bed around 1, my son comes running into our room crying, “Daddy!”
Now, Connor waking up at night is not anything new. Sometimes he’ll have a bad dream, sometimes he’ll just want some water, sometimes he just doesn’t want to be alone in the near-dark of his room for a little bit. So last night when he came into our room, upset, I sat up bleary eyed and asked, “What is it, Connor?”
“There’s a bug in my bed!”
I stagger out of bed as I mumble for Michelle to go back to sleep and I follow Connor back to his room.
“Where’s the bug, buddy?”
“In there!” He points at a pile of blankets on his bed.
Some kind of creepy crawly being in his bed isn’t outside the realm of possibility. I mean, I know we have spiders in the house so maybe he felt one crawling on him. As I reach for the blankets he jerks forward to grab my hand.
“Buddy, I have to check if there’s a bug there.” That seemed to calm him down and he took a step back as I peeled back first one blanket, then the next, shaking each out to make sure there wasn’t anything in them. When no bugs were revealed I said, “Buddy, see? No bugs. I think you had a bad dream.”
“Oh.” Connor sounded genuinely confused but he crawled back into his bed right away and let me cover him up with his blankets. I kissed him on the head, told him I loved him, wished him a good night, and staggered back to bed.
In the morning, Michelle and I woke up to his door wide open and his blankets in our room. According to Connor I smashed a “giant bumblebee” that “wanted to eat all of his stuff and didn’t want to get out of his room” with his monkey blanket, so he put his blankets in our room.
This is why I’m tired.