Last night, Andrew didn't sleep very well. That is to say that he slept more poorly than normal, as he still very rarely sleeps a whole night through. Last night, he woke up around 10:30 pm crying. I came in to comfort him and found him sitting on his mattress in tears. He kept repeating something over and over. At first, I didn't understand, but when I sat next to him he started flapping his arms. "A bird! A bird!" he sobbed.
"Did you have a dream about a bird?" I asked.
He shook his head.
"Where was the bird?"
Amidst his tears, he reached out an accusing finger and pushed it into my sternum. J'accuse!
"Oh! There's no bird here, now, buddy. Come here."
Hoisting him into my lap, I pulled him into my arms. He burrowed his head into my chest and stopped crying. Eventually, he would fall back to sleep, leaving me free to wonder about the inscrutable mystery of a toddler's mind.
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