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Last night, I had a bad dream. I think it’s because my neck has been sore and I haven’t been sleeping well the past week. Anyway, Little T usually crawls into bed with us sometime during the night. He’s a snuggle bug and doesn’t like to sleep alone. We don’t encourage it, we aren’t against it, it is what it is. We do insist that he starts out in his own bed, but its rare that he ends up there.

So last night, I had a bad dream that involved Little T getting hurt, and all I wanted to do when I woke up was snuggle him and make sure he was okay. Big T went to get him from bed, and carried him into our room, which has never happened before. Tired Little T asked in his tiny voice if I had a bad dream. I told him I did, and he said he’d protect me. He can be pretty adorable sometimes. I think it’s good because it evens out the times when he’s a total threenage terror on little legs. πŸ˜‰

This morning I woke up early and started working, and Little T walked out and asked again if I had a bad dream. I told him I did. Then he asked if that’s why Big T brought him into the room so he could protect me. I told him it was.

After that, I heard Little T walk into our bedroom and tell a still kind of sleeping and groggy Big T that Big T was a good boy. Little T said that Big T did a good job for bringing him into Momma’s room, and that he was a really really good boy because of it. He gave him a few more “good job, dadda’s” before coming back into the living room for breakfast.

I liked hearing Little T give his dad some genuine praise. It was so sweet and heart Felt, but also interesting to hear how much weight he places on the phrase “good boy” and “bad boy”. To him, it’s the best and worst thing you can call someone. It makes me think about being sure to use those phrases carefully, because they do mean so much in his world.

Anyway, here’s to better nights and dreams ahead. If I’m going to have bad dreams though, I am glad Little T is around to protect me. πŸ˜‰ He is the best of good boys, in my book.