by Jennifer on May 28, 2013

“Mommy.  See dragons?”

With my eyes still closed, I felt his tiny hands climb up my chest.  Warm air hit my cheek, and I recognized the sweet smell of toddler breath.

“Mommy,” was in my ear as the clouds of sleep drifted away.  I childishly grabbed at them, not quite ready to give them up.  I weighed the likelihood of him falling back into sleep if I just kept my eyes closed a bit longer.


I created tiny slits with my eyelids to see if he was looking at me.

Yep.  He was.

“Mommy. See dragons?” S lifted his arm and pointed out the window over our bed.  “BIG ones,” he emphasized with a whisper and irresistibly big two-year-old eyes.

I lifted myself up and looked out the window onto our front lawn.  I stared past our big oak tree and the baby swing, still in the quiet of the morning.

“See them?  See dragons?” he repeated hopefully.

I smiled, as much on the inside as a soft joy filled me as on the outside, for him, and relaxed my eyes.

And I saw them.


Lumbering across our front lawn, wings folded tight against his body, slick, shiny scales reflecting a pale blue in the morning sun, was a dragon.  He was magnificent.  I recall having seem him a time or two before, in my younger days.

A few paces to his right sat a smaller version, reddish in color and resembling one of S’s favorite toys.  He lounged on his hindquarters, complacently surveying the yard with an air of regal ownership.

“Yes, baby.  I see them,” I whispered, grabbing him in a hug. “Such a spectacular way to wake up, with dragons in the yard.  We are so very lucky to have dragons.”

And I meant every word.

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