Like a mother lion, hearing her cub in distress, my ears perked up at midnight. I shot out of bed to a few blood curdling screams filling our quiet space. I rushed over to the monkey and he stood up, waiting to be plucked out of the crib and comforted. He doesn't do this often, so I knew something had frightened him. He clung tight, with a fierce grip, and slowly loosened as I rocked him in my arms. He must have had a nightmare. What do babies dream about? Being lost in a dark hallway? Running out of milk? I would love to know. My earliest nightmare memory was of a scary red monster that chased me around a gymnasium. When he finally caught me, he rolled me up in a large floor mat, over and over. Odd, creepy, and explains alot about me, doesn't it?
Whatever the nightmare, Jackson calmed quickly and I was able to lay him back down softly. There was no other peep out of him, and no cry. Head resting on his pillow and head tilted to the side, he looked right at me and said softly "choo choo". It broke a dead silence. I cracked up and he flashed a giant smile. It was worth a 12 am wake up call.
