It Will Only Be a Dream

The other night while Gertrude was lying in bed, fighting sleep, she started bemoaning that “it would just be a dream.”

“What would be just a dream sweetie,” I naively asked.

“I want to play in the sunshine, but I know that I can only do that in dreams and when I wake up it would only be a dream!”

“Well, it was just cloudy today honey. Tomorrow you can play in the sun again.”

”NO! I want to play in the real sunshine. I want to play where it lives in the sky. But I can’t because I live on the ground.”

“You want to fly?”

“I want to play in the sky and I want to eat clouds. But it’s all just a dream!”

Wow, I thought. This kid has elaborate ideas for a four-year-old. The way she can work through the logic of a problem makes me worry about the fiction of Santa. I fear she’ll look at her presents this year and say, “Dad, about this whole Santa thing . . . I realize it’s bullshit. I mean, if that fat guy really made the toys, what’s with the packaging? The reindeer? HELLLLOOOO? Paging gravity! And, honestly, is it even LEGAL for the dude to enter our home in the middle of the night? It’s creepy. If he were real, and I highly doubt that, I would check to see if he stole anything. Surely he couldn’t run such a large operation without funding.”

I thought quickly, albeit poorly, and tried to make her feel better.

“Um. You wouldn’t want to eat a cloud. Airplanes fly through them and airplanes are dirty.”

“Oh,” she said, thinking. “I could go into the clouds and sunshine in an airplane! Daddy, when you went to Disney World you flew on an airplane. If you took me to Disney World I could play in the sunshine in the sky and see the clouds and it wouldn’t all be a dream!”

What the—How the hell did she twist that around on me? I can’t believe that. She just kicked my ass.

Touché child. Touché. You’ve won this round, but I will beat you next time. Oh, yes. I will.