I smiled, off and on, all day. All because Brock woke me up at 4am this morning.
I was awoken from my very bizarre dream by the sound of my bedroom door, slowly creaking open. My eyes took a while to adjust and I could not find the little body that had opened that door, but I knew he was creeping somewhere. What I do see is a slight glint of light on a big, round, floating object. Attached to that object is a small boy now standing by my bed. I inform him of the hour, and instruct him to return to his own bed. He responds, "But the balloon noises scare me".
We leave the balloon in the hallway, and Matt takes him back to bed. And I smile at the cute, hilarity of the whole situation. Even my entirely too tough and proud 2.75 year old has his moments of weakness....someone else seems to get more enjoyment from this balloon. But what doesn't make this kid happy?