A piercing scream. I rip the breathing apparatus from my face and leap from the bed as my child emits another shrill, piercing scream. It’s 3 a.m. Hearts pounding. Holding him close. Comforting him. A bad dream? A spider on his face? I tear his bedding apart, looking for any creepy crawly evidence. None found. Could it have been the wispy edge of the curtain, brushing against his face? Possibly. He sleeps like a helicopter. His head may be on the pillow when first he falls, but through the night he turns and twists and ends up under the bed, half on, half off, or upside down. There’s no telling. This night his face was at the foot, near where the curtains fall. It could have been the tickle of the wispy light drapes on his face. Or was it truly a night terror?
Such a troubling start to a Monday morning. My heart aches for what could cause him such terror. Driving back from daycare, through the fog in my brain, I catch a moment of the morning radio show. Health clips. The topic? Night terrors. The doctor explains that virtually all children who experience night terrors are well-adjusted, and that it doesn’t indicate issues with their mental and emotional health. Moreover, children seldom remember the night terror after they fall back asleep.
It was like manna from heaven. Perfect words at the perfect time to set an anxious mother’s heart at ease.
And there’s even better news. We’ve been making great strides in the potty training endeavor. At the ripe age of two and three fourths, he’s starting to get it.
Of course we make a big production of it.
First, the announcement.
“Ohhhhhhhh, I have to go POTTTTTTTTT-EEEEEEEEEEEEE!”
And then we spring into action. “Hurry!” “Try to hold it ’til we get there!” “Let’s get those pants off!” “Hurry!”
And the chorus. “Hurry!!! Hurry! Hurry!!!”
Sometimes there’s a struggle over wanting to bring a companion toy along for the event. Then there’s the decision as to whether to use the stool or not. Or which stool to use. Or whether to use the potty seat, or not. Or whether to have the seat up or down. He used to immediately begin unrolling the toilet paper. Because that is SO much fun. But now he just hands me the roll. He’s conditioned, since I’ve taken it away from him so many times. Often he’ll change his mind about the seat and stool configuration, so he will stand up and insist on changing things up. And sometimes, he’ll actually go. He finds it quite intriguing. As it is.
“WOOK!!!”
