My musing was cut short by a giggle. Before my astonished eyes, a polar bear cub came tumbling into the room, damp hair and jammies indicating she had been freshly bathed to be ready for bed. Then another, in matching pajamas bouncing off his sister? They were not in bear form, of course, but I had no doubt what they were.
As they came close to me, the first one, the little girl cried, “Papa, my brother hurt me.”
“No, I didn’t.” The boy’s lower lip thrust out. “I fell and you were in the way.”
As their argument built in volume and speed, I struggled to take it all in and make sense of why our babies, who were dingo, wolf, and or tiger, were suddenly polar bears. What did I eat for dinner that would give me such odd dreams?
Then, before I could resolve anything more than pork and bean burritos with extra hot sauce were not good to eat half an hour before bed, another pair raced in. Also in pajamas, and also not dingo, wolf, or tiger. No…these two, if I had it right, were a wren and a turtle. It didn’t hurt that their animal was displayed on the front of their pajamas. The polar bears had just been a good guess.
“Kiss me good night, Papa,” cried the little wren. “Dada says we have to go to sleep.”
“I’m not tired.” The turtle wrapped his arms around my knees. “Watch TV.”
“No screens,” chided the wren. “Tell him no screens, Papa.”
“Sometimes, we watch screens.”
The chaos rose around me, the four children apparently calling me Papa and climbing all over me, kissing and hugging, demanding stories and drinks of water and cartoons. I was speechless, sitting in an armchair I’d never seen before andtrying to make sense of the whole situation. Then my mates strolled in from the hallway that led to the bedrooms, arm in arm. Penn was swollen and near to giving birth, meaning, he still had the baby or babies we were expecting safely inside him.
“They love their papa so much,” Ty said. “Look at that.”
“It might be a little overwhelming,” Penn put in. “Maybe we should save him.”
“Oh, I don’t think so. How much love is too much?”
The little ones eventually abandoned me to play, seeking “five more minutes” before bed, and my mates came to sit on the sofa, close together, hands linked. Once again, I took in the scene, seeing my mates looking so proudly at the children, Penn resting his free hand on his belly, and everyone in the room glowing with a subtle joy.
As the images faded and waking awareness returned, I struggled to make sense of my dream. It meant something, as the previous color one had, but what? Darkness still surrounded us, my mates still breathing evenly, lost in slumber. If I couldn’t interpret it, perhaps one of them could?
Not now because they both needed their rest, but in the morning, I would tell them all about the dream. Slipping out of bed, I tiptoed out of the room and into the living room to write down all the details before I forgot them.
Chapter Nineteen
Ty
When I came downstairs to breakfast, Penn trailing behind me, Freid had most of breakfast on the table and was just finishing scrambling the eggs. It smelled wonderful, the food still steaming.
Penn, barely showing in his pregnancy so far, was always hungry. He bounded forward like a kid and nearly shouted, “Breakfast! I’m starved.”
I sat beside him as Freid doled out freshly hot scrambled eggs to all our plates.
“I’m always happy when people love my cooking,” he said.
Freid took a place across from us. I’d started to grab some bacon and toast when I noticed a notebook beside his plate.
I pointed at it with a slice of bacon. “What’s that?”
“This?” Freid opened the cover. “Sometimes I need to write things down. It’s like a journal.”
Penn spoke with his mouth full. “Are you going to write something while you eat?”
“I wanted to share something with you both.”
I leaned forward. “I’m intrigued.”
He made a face at me. “Don’t tease.”
“I’m not. I’m interested in everything to do with you.” When his look didn’t change, I added, “Seriously, my love. I adore everything about you.”
