So I’ve been having a lot of bug-related dreams lately. Big bugs, small bugs, hordes of bugs — you name it. I’m not sure where it’s all coming from, but I honestly hadn’t given it much thought until today, when Miles was on the floor on his play mat.
As I sat on the edge of the couch, looking down at him as he smiled upward, I suddenly found myself scanning the surrounding floor. Not for any potential hazards, as a typical parent might, but rather suddenly filled with a weird, subconscious dread.
“Man, I hope the bugs don’t get him,” I actually thought to myself.
Might be time to consult a dream dictionary. And maybe call an exterminator. Just to be safe.
The Perils (& Pride) of Paternity 