Those who know me know I love sleep. Love, love, love it. I love it enough that I sometimes resort to medicinal assistance in order to achieve an uninterrupted eight hours of slumber.
Who knows this the most? Seth, of course. He's watched the girls many-a-time when I couldn't stand up any longer and absolutely needed a nap. He's watched me pop my bedtime pills. He's rushed into a child's room in the middle of the night to prevent me from waking up because somebody's sleep was disturbed.
So what in the heck was he thinking the other night?!
Everything was normal at bedtime. We brushed teeth, washed faces, said prayers and read books. I began to feel sufficiently tired, so I turned down the light and closed my eyes.
I woke up in the middle of the night to this:
Seth (shaking me): Andrea! Wake up! You were, like, wigging out or something!
Andrea: What the ... ? Huh? I was what?
Seth (stroking my face): Shhh ... shhh. It's okay. It's okay.
Andrea: (Looking around confusedly.)
Seth: Oh ... wait. Maybe you weren't wigging out. Nevermind. (Rolls over and falls asleep within one minute.)
And there I was, lying awake, staring at the ceiling and trying to process what had occurred. Had I really been "wigging out"? If I had, why? If I hadn't, what had Seth been dreaming about that would make him think I had?
The next day, we discussed what had happened and laughed about it. (It was easier to laugh about it after I'd taken a nap to make up for my lost sleep time.) Seth told me he thought I was having a seizure or something, but I'm pretty sure I wouldn't wake up that readily from a seizure. I told him he must have been totally mistaken. He told me he's not sure he was. (I did have some pretty strange dreams about channeling other people's personalities.) We're still not sure if I did, in fact, wig out.
Either way, I now know that I have Seth, Protector Against All Things Wiggy, on my side.