File this under D, for Don't tell the Kids

I encourage my kids to tell me what they dream about at night because I feel like it hones their storytelling skills. It seems to nurture their creativity and gives them a safe environment to talk about intense experiences.

I confess, though, I don't enjoy the "guess what I dreamed last night" conversation. It is a rare dream that I actually want to hear about. I fake my enthusiasm and interest in their dreams for their sake. What kid doesn't love telling their mom about their dream? What kind of a mother would I be if I said "Ugh, another dream. Fine, let's hear it?" Instead, I suck it up and encourage that blasted creative streak they all have.

I'm a giver.

Last night I dreamed that CJane was at my house which is not fair. Christie dreams that she's making out with Ben Affleck and I dream about random bloggers visiting me. Lame.

What's worse is that CJane was not enjoying her stay. She kept taking photographs of the messes.

Also, I was desperate to introduce her to my mother, who was also at my house. I was chasing CJane around the kitchen and dining room with my mom in tow and when I finally managed the introduction CJane looked at me and said "That was weird."

Then she took a picture of my mudroom and left.

I spent a large portion of my day yesterday catching up on the blogs in my google reader and I didn't do much housework.

Too bad Courtney didn't send Javier Bardem over after she left. Ooo la la.

Of course, he might have shown up as Anton Chigurh and that would be all kinds of not fun.

Some day, when my great great great grand daughter is doing her genealogy and she finds granny's blog she is going to ask "Who is CJane? Who is Javier Bardem? Who is Anton Chigurh? Who is Ben Affleck?" Darling, you don't need to worry about any of those people. They are of no consequence. Christie, however, is our cousin on my mom's side and when you are sick of reading my journals go find hers. They are highly entertaining. Kisses from the olden days!