Last night, I had a dream that my dad came over and wanted to fix us dinner. This is always a special treat--he is excellent in the kitchen--and he always fixes a great, nostalgic, meal from my childhood. I was sitting at the table playing with Baby when he brought over a bowl of freshly shredded American cheese mixed with ice.
"What is that for?" I asked.
"Dinner." He responded plainly.
"But, I can't eat dairy." I was puzzled.
"I know." He just stood there, staring blankly at me.
"Okay...?"
"Okay. There won't be any dairy."
"But that's a bowl of shredded cheese..."
"And ice." He added proudly.
And then I woke up.
Going dairy free for Baby wasn't as hard as I thought it would be--thanks to my husband, who happens to be an incredible and thoughtful cook. He has made sure there is always something yummy for me to eat, but I still dream (literally) of my beloved cheese. Most dreams end with me realizing--in horror--the mistake I've made. I awake filled with panic and regret. I guess my brain is in mommy mode 24/7.
But, I just can't stop chuckling at the image of my dad standing there, proudly basking in the glow his iced cheese.
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