Dreams and heaven

This morning, I woke up freaked out about a dream I had. Normally, I would remember those dreams because it was the kind that took place after you've been woken up but then go back to sleep. The morning's interruption at 7 a.m. was the usual variety that happens at that time on this day of the week. Jakob loves juice and milk and when he wakes up with a "rumbly in his tumbly" (Thanks A.A. Milne) he wants one or the other.

Afterwards he decided it would be a good idea to stay in bed with us. Conventionally, I love this because it's one of the coolest things seeking him sleep. I think mostly it's hard to believe something with as much energy as a twister can come to be that still. This has worked out in the past; however, since I was up late last night finishing a game on XBOX, I really wanted him to sleep in. Needless to say, he had other ideas. After a stint of tossing, turning, jabbing and kicking, Kim had enough and got up with him and said the music to my ears, "C'mon Jakob, let's let Daddy sleep." So I did, and I dreamt.

Like I said, I don't remember what the dream was, but I woke up worried about Jakob. I don't like worrying about him. That sounds silly. What parent likes worrying about their child? Well, my grandmother (God rest her soul) did make it an Olympic event to worry about my brother and me, but that's one gene I didn't want replicated. But, when something pushes me into reactionary mode, I forget his whiny voice, his defiant "NO!" and the times he's crying so hard when he's earned two minutes on the couch for acting out. (I even put aside the fact that he is totally wound up and loud right now even as I'm writing this post!)

I think a lot of that stems from the part of me, and it's a large part, that wants Jakob to enjoy that pure and innocent part of life for as long as he can. When he gets bitten by a classmate at daycare, falls down and bumps his head or endures something that takes him away from being in that heavenly pure place it kills me. I'm guessing most first time parents use these experiences to blaze the trail. Kim would tell you this is the reason first-born's dislike middle children so much, AND why middle children can't understand how they don't get away with more they think their parents' will never suspect. I just wish the advice I've received from other parents telling me it's natural for my son to experience hardships to toughen up would sink in.

The older he gets the more I know my days holding him, dancing in the kitchen and playing guitars in the basement are numbered. I hate that part, but then there's the other part where we run in Target and he's yelling, "C'mon daddy!" that makes up for it. Perhaps that's indirectly what he's trying to say. "C'mon daddy. Don't you know? I'll be fine. Just love me."

And I do. More than he probably knows.

But right now, I've got to go. Another "rumbly" has surfaced and Jakob is in need of some juice.

More soon.