Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Todd talks in his sleep. While this may be new information for you, it is not for me. He's been doing it for years, and it's never interesting, because it's always about work. Mostly, this happens when I think something woke him up-- the TV, a thunderstorm-- and he starts talking, but it's all crazy talk (I can't really explain how I distinguish this from regular-conscious-Todd crazy talk, but it is different) and I soon realize he is still dead to the world.
In the middle of the night, Amanda came into our bedroom, totally hysterical about a bad dream. She was literally wailing, and I could not seem to calm her. I told her she could sleep on our floor if that would make her feel better (sorry, no kids in the bed,) and she laid out her blanket and pillow, but continued sobbing. Nothing seemed to quiet this kid, and, in my stupor, I was becoming quite frustrated.
At that point, Todd rolled over and calmly said, "Amanda, come here." Good, I thought, the hysterics have finally awakened the dead, and he can take a turn. He's genetically calmer than I am at any hour and in any situation, anyway. I rolled over to brace myself for a 57-pound, leg-and-arm-flailing bed guest, but she didn't climb in. Todd was talking to her. "Now, if you are part of the control group, these are the anticipated effects..." I rolled back over, and Todd was up on one elbow, clearly describing in technical terms criteria for quality control on tests for a new product. Amanda-- wide awake-- seemed to be taking it all in.
I whispered for Amanda to come back around to my side of the bed. When she got there, I quietly told her I thought Daddy was still asleep, and he must be dreaming about work. We giggled a little as she laid back down on the floor. Todd flopped back on his pillow and scolded, "Hey, I can hear you over there!"