Bug woke up this morning and sleepily told me about the dream she'd been having. Long and meandering, it involved her beloved teacher showing up to give her a black and white cat, walls made of glass, and dinosaurs. I listened, commented, then told her to come on out for breakfast.
As Bear zipped through the kitchen to feed the cats, Bug said, "Hey, Bear! I want to tell you about my dream."
"Not right NOW, Bug. Can't you see I'm FEEDING the CATS." (Emphasis courtesy of snotty preteen tone).
Bug ate her cereal for awhile, and when Bear sat down at the kitchen table, she tried again, "Bear, I had a cool dream last night."
Bear, reading the cereal box, said noncommittally, "Uh." (Have I mentioned that Bear is not a morning person? And that she gets that from Tom?)
Bug glanced at me, then soldiered on, "So, anyway, in my dream-"
Bear jumped up, "Bug! I have to go to the bathroom. I don't want to listen to your stupid dream."
"Beeeeear," I said, in that quiet warning tone that really means Knock It Off or Else. "Else" being whatever I can think up on the spur of the moment for a consequence.
"Sorry," she tossed over her shoulder, as she huffed off to the bathroom.
Bug ate quietly for awhile, then said, "Mom? Did I mention that in my dream Bear was dead?"