Chasing Rabbits

When we walked in the door after running errands today, Michael eyed Little Mister, still tucked in his car seat. "Oliver's dreaming," he said.

His eyes indeed were rolling back and forth underneath his little lids, and his tiny mouth twitched. His faint eyebrows raised into three distinct wrinkles on his forehead, and a tiny conversation of "ooh-ooh-ooh" issued forth.

It was like watching a dog dream of chasing rabbits, and I wondered: what on earth do babies dream about? Chasing Enfamil? Giant faces bobbing ridiculously in front of them trying to imitate cooing signs? Amniotic fluid? Darkness? Pacifiers?

My own dreams are becoming more and more ridiculous as it becomes easier and easier to slip into sleep at a moment's notice. As soon as Ollie's eyes begin to lull upwards with a flutter of the eyelids, I begin excitedly preparing pillows and blankets in the recliner. Oh, boy. Mommy gets a nap. I close my eyes and dip into the weirdest realms of REM I have experienced since about week 30 of pregnancy. Today I dreamed that in addition to Oliver, I was holding an owl - yes, an owl- made of Cocoa Krispies. Then snap, crackle, pop - I was awake.

I opened my eyes to discover a sleeping Oliver in my arms, and a mad craving for breakfast.