Where does this come from?
The title of this post is something I’ve been saying to my son since he was really little. He now says it to me and his mom, sometimes when I leave the house. It is our way of saying “take care of yourself while your away.”
I never really thought of it any other way. My son never has had bad dreams, not like the ones I had when I was a kid. Mine were “wake up in the middle of the night screaming bloody murder for weeks type of bad dreams.” Our daughter has bad dreams, like the ones I had. She wakes up screaming like I did, her head is sweaty and sometimes she’s breathing heavy. She is so much like me in so many ways. Sometimes it freaks me out.
My son is the oldest and should have a lot of my mannerisms, he does but it seems my daughter was born with a lot mine too. When I was reading to her tonight–Stuart Little–she stared up at me with her big brown eyes as if to say without words, “Daddy, I love you.”
A lot like her Daddy.
She doesn’t talk very much, she says about five to seven words and this has caused my wife and I some concern. Tonight I was talking to my sister and brother-in-law who are finally home from being stationed in Germany and we all agreed that the percentile scale the put kids against is bull.
My son was born three weeks early and is small for his age, has ADHD but is amazing with a guitar and is in the lower percentile with his age group. My daughter was six and half weeks early and is very small for her age, but she knows her shapes, knows what everything is, loves Elmo and Princesses–especially Rapunzel from Tangled–and other than her lack of speaking is a normal two year old.
The Percentile problem
I think doctors like to make parents feel bad about how we are raising our kids. Otherwise why would we be measured against someone that has a different genetic structure than us. every kid is different genetically. Every kid is going to grow at their own rate. The percentile scale is only a gauge to make parents with kids in the lower end–like my wife and I–feel like we’re doing something wrong.
When I tell my son and daughter, “Good dreams, no bad ones.” it’s because I love them and I want them to have a restful night without any of the bad dreams I had as a child. When I take my son or daughter to the doctor I feel like I’m in that nightmare every time.
It’s not the bad dreams we have to worry about, its the good ones that get distorted that will throw you.