After a long and napless Memorial Day spent enjoying family time in the city, we were eager to get the kids to bed a little early last night. But since we had played downtown all day in the sun, Nick and I were debating whether we should take the extra 20 minutes to bathe them first. Since we were at a loss for the best solution, we asked the expert for advice. Mylie immediately assured us that a bath was unnecessary, and we were perfectly happy getting the two of them to bed that much earlier.

Later, we were finishing up a rather long movie at about midnight when we heard the door to their room open, followed by the pitter-patter of little feet down the hall. When she appeared around the corner, I was expecting a complaint about a scary noise or a closet monster. But instead, what I heard was, “I think maybe I do want a bath after all.”

Really? A bath at midnight? After you’ve been sound asleep for over 4 hours? It appears our daughter is already deep within the throws of that womanly curse of not being able to turn your brain off at night… but with her it’s like mommy-brain on steroids. I swear the kid remembers the minutest details of events that happened six months ago, or about things that will happen within the next week… all well after she’s gone to bed. Poor thing, when she’s a mommy and has more weightier matters to set her brain on, she’ll probably have a nervous breakdown or a chronic sleep disorder.

So, I assured her that she didn’t need a bath at that moment, but I’d be happy to give her a hug before she went back to bed. She hopped on my lap for a little cuddle. I had an idea that her trip to the living room may have been spurred on by more than just a quest for cleanliness, so I asked her if she had been having any dreams. She nodded that she had, and when I questioned her about their content (again, expecting monsters or aliens), she responded without missing a beat.

“I was dreaming of Disneyworld. And Disneyland. And about dancing there with Cinderella and all of her princesses.”

Nice. But really, let’s tone it down, huh? We do not watch the Disney Channel in our house, and truly, her only real contact with Disneyland (not sure where she even heard that Disneyworld existed) was when I told her that we’d take her to the place once she stopped sucking her thumb. I didn’t even show her a picture! So how is it her girly brain is dreaming up dancing princesses like it was a stinking commercial? Well, apparently, a dream is a wish your heart makes, and this kid knows how to dream big… And how to be so stinking cute in the middle of the night that it just about makes her parents throw in the towel and make her wish come true…almost, but not quite.

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