This morning around 5:30 Drew came and got in bed with us, due to the storming. Light storming, I should mention, but the kid is such a light sleeper it could be that God is merely thinking about throwing around some thunder and bam! He's in my bed, what a great excuse. Right up there with "I had a bad dream." "Really? Sorry honey, what was it about?" "I don't kn...SNOOOOOORE."
So, Drew is not a baby anymore. he's a fully armed and legged and pointy elbowed almost-seven-year-old kid, and the arms and the legs, and the elbows, they don't so much fit anymore when spooning. So I don't sleep much once he's here. After a while, he sits up and says he's going back to his room. Its now 6:15, and Trip gets up, too, and I fall back to sleep for a few blissful minutes.
I was dreaming of shopping, and I don't know where I was, but it was a familiar store, and they didn't take American Express. Which is what I always try and use, mainly because we get the most bang for the spend in points, but also because it has to be paid off each month, so its not a credit card really, more like a debit card. Anyway, girlfriend behind the counter wasn't having it, so I was digging around in my purse and found my Mastercard. "Ummm, like, we don't take Mastercard." Wha? Who doesn't take Mastercard? Whatever. Now I am getting embarrassed, in my dream, though I don't know why. People in line behind me are shifting their weight from right foot to left foot and rolling their eyes at each other. I am flustered. I dump out my purse on the counter. This would be bad, if in real life, because as OCD as I can be about some things, my purse is...not one of them. it is like a bottomless pit of receipts and pink While You Were Out slips and dollar bills and quarters and Uno cards and used Kleenexes and suckers and concave chapsticks.
So I dump all this mess onto the counter and I could feel the panic rising in my throat, and my breathe was getting more shallow, and suddenly my husband's voice comes from over my shoulder. "Honey, get up. Your dog wants to go out."
I said, out loud, "I can't find my Visa!"
He said, "Really?" And started laughing. I rolled over and looked at him standing in the doorway. I am totally confused. "Were you dreaming?" He says, still laughing. Still kind of confused, I said, "Who doesn't take Mastercard?"
He said, "Your dog doesn't. And he's whining. Get up."
When I find that Visa, he is going to be SO sorry.