This morning as I was coaxing you into the day -- you asked me to cover you up, but not to talk, and not to kiss you -- you turned and said, "I had a funny dream." "Really?" I replied. "Yes! A mom had a mustache! Isn't that funny?" you croaked out in your cute, groggy voice.
The light in your eyes -- the light of remembering a dream -- was a new light. We've talked about bad dreams before, but sometimes I've wondered if you've been making them up as conversation starters. This time, I could tell it was a real memory of your subconscious meanderings.