Monday, March 30, 2009
The Sweetest Dreams
Recently my husband I awoke to Cooper looming over us in bed. He was sobbing -- and I mean choking with uncontrollable crying -- and visibly shaken. When we cuddled him and asked him what was wrong he said that he had a very bad dream.
"Mason was falling and I couldn't catch him." he wailed. Oh how sad.
Cooper has had many bad dreams in his short life. Spiders, Bakugan warriors, Star Wars villains... you just never know what will rattle a 4-year-old. But none has shaken him so solidly as a nightmare in which his little brother is hurt. Instantly my heart was both wrenched and warmed. Of course I was sad that Cooper was miserable in the thought of his brother's demise.
But I was relieved that he loves him to this degree. You see, by my own estimation my greatest fault as a child was that I was a genuinely horrible sister. I did not care enough for others, particularly the endless parade of brothers that was brought home to live with me. I cared a great deal about myself. I lacked empathy for them. I'd like to say it's grown in me over the years. Perhaps it has, a little. I take copious mental notes when I'm with someone who loves everyone. I want to be that person. I want my children to be that person. If they are nothing else in life, I will be satisfied that they are empathetic to each other.
That is my sweetest dream.