Dashing the dreams...
But my senses did not entirely flee me. I exacted promises from Fric and Frac that no matter how hairy things got, they would not have nightmares. Because at ages eight and nine, they can control their sleeping selves. My kids are no dummies. They readily agreed. Why not? They knew I was breaking a parental law my hubs and I had agreed upon. No violent, scary, age-inappropriate viewing material ever. Unless of course, hubs is at work and I really want to see a violent, scary, age-inappropriate movie. (To make myself look better in this post, I will point out that the hubs believes Harry Potter is too scary for my kids, although they have both read the books.)
It was a proud moment for me. My kids held my hand and cuddled me close during the more intense moments of the movie. (Dinosaurs terrify me.) And when the movie was over they toddled off to bed, to enjoy a blissful sleep, unfettered by visions of hairy apes and large-fanged dinosaurs.
I, however, didn't sleep a wink. And when the hubs crawled into bed I was positive it was Kong trying to snatch me away.
Consequently, I look and feel absolutely wonderful this morning. And my darling husband informed me that maybe I have learned a valuable lesson.
Perhaps I have. Next time, after viewing an inappropriate movie, I'll crawl in bed with my kiddies so they can chase away my boogie man. 'Cuz my husband won't do it for me.