It may seem that after saying I had nothing to say I’ve done nothing but post on here, but I’m trying to get back in the habit of blogging more things that I tweet and facebook since it’s much easier to find stuff again on a blog. So…
For most of winter, Harry slept in our room with us. His room can’t have a radiator (long story) and is FREEZING from about October to February. Because we’re wusses, we let him stay until mid-March and since he’s been back in his room, he’s been getting up and coming in to us at least once a night.
Last night he appeared at my side of the bed at ten past one. I was already aware of him and when I opened my eyes, there he was: lips pursed for a kiss. I kissed him, told him it was the middle of the night and escorted him back to bed.
What seemed like just a few minutes later, I heard the bedroom door opening and waited for him to come round again, but instead I heard him say: “I really really–” before David let out something akin to a frightened bellow. It was pretty loud. I jumped and said a couple of inappropriate words and Harry, understandably, burst into tears and threw himself on the bed.
Harry had been about to say, “I really really had a bad dream” – because that’s what he says every night – but David had actually been having a bad dream, featuring Harry, and then Harry was there, waking him up and giving him – and, it turned out, all three of us – quite a start.
I told Harry he could stay with me and David could clear off to his bed.
“That scared the heck out of me,” Harry said, once he’d stopped crying.
Of course then Harry went straight to sleep and I lay fretting for quite some time. Gah.