The Mayor of Dreamville

(I know. I already used this picture a few posts ago. But it's my blog, and I'll re-photo if I want to!)

You know how when your kid is 2 and does something once or twice and it's cute so you encourage it and now they're 3 and that cute 2-year-old thing is a really annoying habit that you wish you had never encouraged in the first place because now it can't be undone?

Last summer when Dylan was 2 we visited his aunt and uncle (Scott's sister and brother-in-law) in Kansas City. We were putting him to bed one night of our visit and Aunt Diane did this little bedtime ritual with him that she had done with her boys when they were smaller. She took some dreams out of her pocket, shook them up in her closed hands, then opened her hands over his head to let the dreams pour in. Short, sweet, simple, done, he's ready to drift off to dreamland. The ritual was repeated with Aunt Diane each night we were there. A few days after returning home, Dylan asked for dreams. Short, sweet, simple, done, right? What harm could there possibly be in that? Besides, I was feeling desperately guilty that he only sees Aunt Diane once a year for a week or so at the most and they'd had such a connection on this trip and I wanted to nurture that for him and for her so that he would instantly love her the next time he saw her. Thus the removing of the dreams from the pocket and the placing of them into Dylan's head became our bedtime ritual, always with the reminder that Aunt Diane had sent the dreams for him.

It is now a year later and this short, sweet, simple, done ritual has morphed into a never ending, knock down, drag out battle for the perpetual delay of actually laying the head on the pillow to drift off to said dreamland.

"Why do you have dreams in your pocket?"

"How did they get in there?"

"Do I have dreams in my pocket, too?"

"What are the dreams about?"

"I need more dreams than that!"

"You forgot to get the dreams out of your other pocket, too."

"Now the dreams are coming out of my head. You need to come and put them back in."

"What is a dream?"

"But I wanted dreams about..."

Every. Single. Night. Without. End. (I know, I know. They're only small once and I will miss this when it's gone, blah, blah, blah.)

Last night Scott was putting Sadie to bed and Dylan wanted to help. "I have to give her dreams,

Daddy." (So adorable, yet so dangerous.)

NOOOO! Sadie will have to learn another route to Dreamville.