Wasp in the Bed
Scene: 1:38 a.m., two boys, led by the older one, pad into our bedroom.
“Dad! There’s a wasp in my bed, and Asher’s burning up with lava!”
“Mmmrffl—What?”
“There was a wasp in my room. I saw it. It flew by my head and I trapped it in my covers.”
“Mama, I need a drink of water.”
I get up. Lava? “Um, OK. I’ll go look. Here’s some water, Asher.”
gulp, gulp, gulp
“More.”
“OK”
gulp, gulp, gulp
“More, please.”
gulp, gulp, gulp
“Asher, go potty now, please.”
In the boys’ room, “Lucas, your room is dark. How could you see a wasp?”
“Um, I don’t know. But I did.”
Light on, shaking out covers, “I don’t see anything, honey. Your bed is safe. I think it was a dream. Why don’t you go in and go potty?”
“But I saw it…. I’m glad it’s not in my bed.”
“Sometimes when we have to go potty in the night, we have strange dreams to wake us up.”
“Oh.”
Everybody goes back to sleep immediately, except me. I’m awake for an hour.
