Sometime during the night, I woke to hear Paolo crying in his sleep. I tried to wake him gently, imagining all the horrors he could be experiencing in his mind. We shouldn't have finally let him watch the first Star Wars movie. Even though it didn't scare him a bit at the time, it must have left some evil imprint on his delicate subconcious. He must be dreaming of monsters, of being chased or hurt. "Paolo, honey, Paolo, you're having a bad dream. Wake up, sweetheart." Even worse, what if he's dreaming of being alone? I bet he's lost or looking for me, but he can't find me. I rubbed his back and tried to break through his night terrors: "Mama's here, baby, Mama's here." Finally he woke, sat up, and asked for some water.
"Did you have a bad dream?" I asked him softly.
"Yeah," he answered.
"What was it about, bud?"
"You got me in Time-Out."
"Well, I'm sure you had it coming. Go back to sleep."