Pouf

G/Son and I had a sleepover this weekend. We had an amazing time and drifted happily off to sleep, with him asking me to "one more time" sing him the lullabies that I used to sing to his father. He gets quite a kick out of the idea of Son being a little boy who went off to sleep with lullabies. About 3:00 in the morning, he stirred and whimpered, and I went over and rubbed his back and said, "It's just a dream. Nonna's here. Everything's ok. It's just a dream." G/Son murmured, still asleep, "Scares me, Nonna." I said, "Here, let's say 'pouf!' together; that will make it go away, like a bubble popping in the air," and, so, we did.

In the bright morning sunshine, eating breakfast out on the porch, I said, "It sounded like you had a scary dream last night." G/Son said, "Storm Troopers." I said, "Do you remember how we said, 'Pouf!" and made the storm troopers go away?" G/Son said, "Yes, just like a bubble popping in air."

So, I said, "Well, the next time that you have a scary dream, if you want to, you can use 'Pouf" and make it pop and go away. When you get older, I'll teach you some other stuff to do with the dreams, but, for now, you can tell those storm troopers 'Pouf!' and, since it's your dream, when you say 'Pouf!" they have to go pouf." G/Son laughed, we practiced saying "Pouf" and waving our arms and then we turned to a discussion of why the squirrels in Nonna's yard come and eat the bird food.