Common theme since Finn started treated. Ants in the bed. He talks about them incessantly some days. Last night, when hubby was getting home from his shift at 1 am, Finn woke up and asked him to get the ants out of the bed.
He has been in our bed often since he started the amoxicillan. I wonder if his night terrors will be less severe than mine because he is so young. Mine have been awful over the years. I dreamt about best selling novelists, former employers, squirrels eating my head, the ceiling falling onto me. I wake screaming, he just knows they are there. Sometimes he wakes up and asks his brother, “What am I supposed to do next?” We tell him to go to sleep and hope there are no more late-night wakings.
Doesn’t it seem like there should be a better way to heal?
It reminds me of when my Dad was dying and he would grasp in the air for non-existent objects, or hand me imaginary beverages to hold for him. I got to where I would just take them from him and smile. I would have done anything for him, and I’ll do anything for my boys. Tonight, I’ll keep the shovel handy. Never know what I might have to get out of their beds.