I dreamed that I was picking up crayons, beads, and books from the back of my girls’ closet. Then I was checking the sizes on the dresses they had hanging up to see if they were too small and could be put away.
This is what I was dreaming about, people!
For reals. In my subconscious playground, instead of beating up bad guys with my mad martial arts skills (like I did that one time with the crow–it was a really bad crow, okay?), I’m picking the dust bunnies off broken, paperless Crayolas and plucking pony beads from between carpet fibers.
In my dreamworld, I’m still a mom.
At least I’m a mom who’s a better cleaner, but still. Is that really the best I can do?
I think it’s time for a Die Hard marathon. Let’s see what my brain does with that.
Probably scold Hans Gruber on his bad table manners.
Do any of you parents dream about parenting? Do you dream of being in a Die Hard-esque movie? Do you think Bruce pulls off the bald look well? Do you wish you could too?