Woke up this morning to Ian really wanting me to get out of bed. It was early, so I just ushered him into my bed and under the covers to buy myself some time.
He talked to himself a lot and scratched my back and played with my ears for a while, but got pretty fed up with my excuses for lying in bed while he was so awake.
Then I feel this little finger in my ear, digging and reminding me of those childhood warnings about cleaning your ears with Q-Tips. Next I feel him sticking his eye up to my ear, peeking in.
“I’m gonna look in your ear to see what you’re dreaming about.” He pushes his eyeball tightly up against my ear and rocks his head to the side as though he’s honestly looking for something, then pulls back a bit.
“Did you see what I’m dreaming about?” I asked.
“I didn’t see nuffing. Just all black. Daddy? Are you dreaming about sleeping?”
One of my favorite little games Ian likes to play is “cocoon” where he’s a little helpless caterpillar in a cocoon. He moves over to me with his blanket pulled up over him and tells me that he’s in a cocoon and whimpers like a puppy. I shower him with affection and excitement over how incredible it is that he’s soon going to be pushing out of the cocoon to become a wonderful butterfly.
He resists, “no dad, I’m just a caterpillar in a cocoon. I’m not turning into a butterfly yet!” I say, “oh, sorry! You’re still a little caterpillar in his cocoon!” and I cuddle him and play along.
I say, after some quality cuddle time, “I love my little cocoon caterpillar, but I sure wish he would come out and be a butterfly soon! I miss playing with him!”
We don’t usually do this for long before he’s bursting out of his blanket as a “little kid butterfly” who obviously, as he makes sure to explain, still need dad to shower him with cuddles and affection.