Last in the Rat Race

A long day at work led to a tired, quiet evening at home. MRA was golfing, so Kate and I went through the evening’s routine: dinner, pick up, bath, book. Minor detours: touch-up to our new garage door by Steve and random calls from the parental units as they argued over nothing. (seriously, nothing. GET A HOBBY!)

Putting Kate to bed – at our agreed-upon earlier time – I rubbed her back as she drifted off to sleep. Rubbed and rubbed.. the motion and dark room making me tired, too. Finally, certain that she was out, I got up, motioned to the dog and turned to leave her room. Success at 8:30 pm. Success and an early bedtime for me.

Glorious…

I hadn’t even reached the door.

“BUTTERFLIES! There are BUTTERFLIES on my head!” she screamed as she jumped up and off her bed, scrambling to get away. Scrambling like the devil was on her heels. “There are butterflies down there – BEHIND my BED!”

(Alecia – are you reading this? If anyone could relate, it’s YOU!)

Tipping between trying not to laugh at the absurdity and trying not to cry as bedtime was NOT YET OVER, I assured her there were no butterflies in, on or around her bed.

She was CERTAIN they were there. Dead serious.

We grabbed the MagLite (never know when you might need to beat a mystical butterfly into submission) and inspected the dark crevice behind her bed.

Nothing.

“It was a dream, Kate. Sometimes we dream crazy, crazy things.” This from QUEEN CRAZY in that department. Seriously, I dream some crazy, crazy stuff. Giant worms in my composter just the night before. (see what I mean?)

Back to bed. Back to rubbing. I finally gave up, stretched out beside her and sacked out for a bit before crawling back to my own bed.

Tired.

So tired…

Think anyone would notice if I napped under my desk?