He was amused and couldn’t stop giggling. Slightly embarrassed, I looked on.

I had just confessed to my toddler that I had a nightmare in the middle of the previous night and had woken up all shaken and sweaty. While I was trying to catch my breath, both my men, A and A Jr, were sleeping soundly, unstirred.

I took a sip of water from the glass kept on the nightstand, adjusted the quilt to cover A Jr so he remained warm and ran my fingers through A’s hair lightly, taking care not to wake him up.

Sleep eluded me, but what did put me to rest was holding on to A Jr’s tiny hands. Even in his sleep he had latched on to my hand readily. ‘A mother’s touch remains with a child even in his subconscious’, with this happy and peaceful thought I fell into a deep sleep.

There was something unnerving about the silence of the night, but strangely in those few quiet and scary moments I found immense comfort in the fact that they were calmly sleeping and everything was fine with my world.

A Jr might’ve found it funny, but A understood. The maturity that comes with parenthood, probably!

Daily Post prompt: Nightmare