There you are. You are just lying there in bed, of course, because you are asleep. You know that, but then you hear the bathtub running. Someone has left the noisy thing going full blast. Time passes. You realize that by then it is overflowing onto the floor. It isn’t like this is some children’s book though—it isn’t going to fill the whole house, you tell yourself to keep from having to get up. You have one leg hanging off the bed, and you suddenly feel water touch the tip of your toe. The water keeps rising. Soon it is at your calf. Then your knee. Your thigh. Suddenly it is at your hip and—
You jerk awake and let out a deep sigh of relief as you look at your dry carpet and sheets. That was very close. You almost peed yourself.
Water. It was falling from the sky. Little drops were collapsing themselves against the windshield into miniature puddles, then being whisked away by the windshield wipers. The dull scrape and swish sound of the wipers, so rhythmic, was very lulling. With the gentle sway of the car in motion, that was enough. The tot was asleep. Soundly she was snug inside her car seat, her chubby cheeks supported by the sides of the seat’s headrest. Distantly in her dream she could hear the announcer on the radio.
Wreck on Interstate 95. Traffic at a standstill for a minimum of two hours. Seek alternate route.
“Brilliant,” her mother’s sarcastic voice infiltrated the dream, like a distant echo. “So instead of just having the interstate backed up they make sure no one in town can drive anywhere either.” The vehicle came to a standstill in traffic just a few miles from their destination. This prolonged the nap.
Suddenly the tot was playing with her toy dogs. The dogs were trotting about, chasing the tot and it was so much fun! There is nothing more fun than a pink dog with purple ears! They frolicked around the tot, occasionally stopping to lick her face. They were leading her onward, toward the bathroom. One of the puppies nudged the faucet, and out rushed bubbly bathwater. Suds were climbing up the side of the tub as the puppies jumped in, beckoning her. She started to put one foot in when—
“We are here—finally,” her mother’s voice came in loud and clear as the buckles unsnapped on her seat. The tot opened her eyes and blinked. Phew. That was close. I almost peed myself.
Her mother scooped her up and propped her on her hip as they headed through the parking lot. The tot blinked groggily at her surroundings.
“Just a quick trip into the dollar store,” the mother said as she ushered them through the rain. “We need to get you a replacement hat for that one you lost at the zoo. I know you were so sad to lose your pink hat. We will just see if they have a new one.”
There were so many words, in such a sleepy place. The tot blinked at the words, overwhelmed. She was set down on the floor in front of the display of hats. The world seemed entirely too bright, and too active, and just too awake. Suddenly she spotted something just to the left that was of enough interest to jerk her to attention. There were puppies, just like the ones she had at home! A pink one with purple ears! And what was it that the tot was going to do with them again? Oh that’s right, a bath—
Only not a bath. Just a golden shower. All over the Dollar Tree floor.
