dreaming

childhood is supposed to be the easiest time of life.
a time that should be relatively free of stress and full of innocence, simplicity, and fun.
i have a bit of a hard time relating to this.
i think i was born with the spirit of a grown up,
and i often view my own children as as miniature grown ups.
but they give me glimpses at times that they really are in the midst of a true childhood.
a few nights ago maggie woke up crying in the night.
i gave it a couple minutes before i got up.
sometimes she cries a bit in her sleep without waking up.
once i realized she was awake and really crying i got up.
in tears, she kept asking where her bedtime cup was.
i found it on the ground and handed it back to her.
as her tears slowed she whimpered,
"me had a bad dream. i dream daddy threw my cup in the dirt."
i was so relieved that's as bad as it gets for this baby!
if her worst nightmare is about losing her cup,
then she has it pretty easy.
then i realized how nice it would be to go back to a time where that was as scary as it got.
i didn't tell her that she woke me from a nightmare where i was trapped in a room in a city library trying to hide her under a table to protect her from gunshots someone was firing through the walls.
i'm a fan of preserving the childhood innocence, fearlessness, and freedom for as long as possible.