We are coming to the realization that our child has a pretty decent imagination - which can be both a good and a bad thing. Good, obviously, because it promotes creativity and enables him to entertain himself easily. Bad, because sometimes the imagination seeps out around the edges in his sleep, resulting in nightmares.
A couple of nights ago, Charles and I entertained Drew by making up stories for him, featuring him as a valiant hero coming to the rescue of a town beset by a big bully dragon, who kept stealing everyone's blocks.
Drew was thrilled to be the starring player in this drama - and later that evening we caught him building a "castle" with his Legos, and muttering about "dragons" and "superheroes" and the like, obviously adding to the story that we'd begun.
About two hours after he went to bed that night, he woke up crying. I went into his room and asked him what was wrong.
"Mama!" he sobbed. "There's a dragon in here! It's gonna get me!"
"Drew, there's no dragon in here. You told the dragon to go away, remember? In the story?"
Drew considered that for a moment, and then, in same tone of horror he used to tell us about the dragon, exclaimed, "Mama! There's a booger in my nose!"
"I don't know which he found more frightening..." Charles said later, "the dragon or the booger."
And, in the spirit of reporting cute things Drew says: this morning, on the way to work, Drew started fussing and rubbing at his eyes. When Charles asked him what was wrong, he responded frantically, "Dada - the sun's poking me in the eye!"