It's Thursday morning and Bean and Mommy are driving to swimming lessons. Goobs is at home with Mommom. Mommy is only half paying attention because she thinks of her time in the car as her zone out time. The kids are strapped in, there is nothing that they can do to themselves or each other, so she doesn't need to give them her full attention. Bean is in the back chattering away as usual.
Bean: (finishing up a conversation he was having with Mommy that she didn't quite hear all of) "...did you see that Mommy? You were there, did you see how that was?"
Mommy: "What honey? Did I see what."
Bean: "Lightening McQueen and how he was showing us how to trap the birds. You were there Mommy, didn't you see it?"
Mommy: "What are you talking about honey?"
Bean: "My dream Mommy. Did you see it."
Mommy: "Oh, it was something in your dream? No I didn't see that honey."
Bean: "Why not Mommy? But you were there?"
Mommy: "Well, it was your dream. I don't see your dreams. They are only in your head. You are the only one who sees your dreams."
Bean: "Oh. I thought that if you were in them you would see them too."
Mommy: "No, that isn't how it works. What were you and I doing in your dream."
Bean: "Oh, just sitting on the yellow couch."
Mommy: "We were just sitting there. What were we doing."
Bean: "Just talking. It was nice."
And suddenly Mommy finds herself crying. Nothing to alarming, just a significant eye watering. She is in Beans dreams at night and he thinks they are nice dream. For some odd reason this makes her feel like a really good Mom. And before she can dwell too long on this warm fuzzy feeling, she is faced, once again, with the fact she is this kids mother, something that still sends her reeling at times. The fact that she is anyone's mother is a bit startling to her at times. Now he is dreaming about her. Sure, they are nice dreams now. But, when he starts having bad dreams about her does that mean she has totally screwed up and damaged his psyche somehow.
And this is the problem with parenthood people. As soon as you realize you have done something right, the weight of all you have left to do hits you like a ton of bricks. He's only 4. There is still plenty of time to screw it all up.
Then Mommy looks at him in the rear view mirror.
Bean: (Looking at the window at some pigeons sitting on top of a street lamp, he starts waving and yelling at the top of his lungs) "Hi there Birds. Hi! My name is Bean."
Whatever. He's introducing himself to birds. Best not to think about it too much Mommy.