But what caused the head trauma? Was it an accident? A car crash? Was I clobbered Fred Flintsone-style? These were the questions that haunted my semi-sleeping state. It was 5:45 a.m. and I laid on my side with my eyes closed, half asleep, half awake, thinking is this pain real, or am I dreaming?
I opened my eyes. The back of a miniature head of He-Man came into focus. You, Baby Boy, with your thick blonde hair. That’s right, we were just ambushed, I remembered. Where is…and I rolled over looking for you, Baby Girl, and that’s when I knew this was no dream.
There in your hands was a clump of my hair.
“Mama, you awake!” you beamed, like oh, wow what a surprise!, as if you hadn’t just been lying there performing slow Chinese torture on me, plucking individual strands of hair from my scalp as I slept. And that’s when you got all serial killer on me.
“Mama, you turned around,” you said, not cruel, just matter-of-factly, the way an abusive boyfriend would casually point out your flaws.
“Yes,” I said, still in a fog, rubbing my scalp, confused.
“I pulled your hair…”
“Yes, you did,” I said, quickly coming-to to perform a full head check, thankful to feel hair still there. “That’s not nice.”
“You awake now…” you sang.
…This morning when picking you guys up at camp the teacher said to me nonchalantly, like this was a normal sentence, “you may want to wash their hands, they touched a bearded dragon.” You can imagine my relief when I looked around the room and saw a man in khaki’s with a snake coiled around his wrist, and concluded that there must have been an animal show.
I must say, babies, off all the animals out there, humans are the most messed up of all.
*by amy denby