Shortly after my alarm went off, while I was still drifting in a state of semi-consciousness, I became aware of a brief giggle and the sound of bare feet pattering across the floor... leaving the room, strangely enough. I responded with my customary wit and poise: "Nguuunnh?"
Then I drifted back off, savoring the precious extra minutes of sleep afforded to me by that blessed invention known as the Snooze Button.
I was awakened again by the sound of footfalls, and this time there were two pairs of feet. The bed shifted as someone put their weight on it. I opened my eyes, and was not surprised to see Firstborn trying to climb up my side of the bed. He jumped over my prone form, and settled beside his mother on the other half of the bed.
The Beautiful Woman counted slowly to three. Then they both leaned and down and shook me, yelling: "Wake up, wake up, wake up!"
I gave the ritual response: "I'm awake, I'm awake, I'm awake." This was not, technically, a lie.
I straightened up and got into a sitting position, and Firstborn settled on top of me for a snuggle. The Beautiful Woman, meanwhile, was rubbing my shoulders and neck. My fondness for the Snooze Button aside, this is a vastly better way to wake up than the alarm clock will ever be.
We were exchanging morning pleasantries - "Sleep well?" "Oh, yes. You?" "Did you have nice dreams?" - when Firstborn asked, "What did you dream about, Daddy?"
"I don't remember," I told him. I really don't; I generally have to wake up more gradually in order to remember my dreams.
The Beautiful Woman was starting to say something when Firstborn - who just turned four back in June - interrupted her. "I know what Daddy dreamed."
We looked at him, and he continued: "Daddy dreamed about zombies."
My wife grinned. I allowed as how that might be the case.
The Beautiful Woman asked our son, "Did you have a zombie dream?"
He shook his head. "No. I don't know how to dream about zombies."
What can I say? He may not know how to dream about zombies, but he knows his father pretty well...