Terror In The Night!

"Mommy! Mommy!"

My eyelids fluttered. The high pitch of the faint screams slightly roused me from sleep. Though only a narrow hallway separates the master bedroom from the girls' room, the loud hum of the floor fan in my room drowns out almost all sound.

"Mommy! Mommy! Aaahhhhh!" The screams came again. This time my eyes shot open and were immediately drawn to the light of my alarm clock. 3:10 AM.

"Mmmm" I groaned and shut my eyes again.

"Mommeeeeeeee!" I could tell by the screams it was my 2-year-old. She had never awoken in the night like this. The sound of her shrill screams, growing louder by the second, frightened me and I thought something must be seriously wrong for her to be screaming this way.

I attempted to shoot up into a seated position, but my large, rock-hard belly forced me back against the bed. My head hit my pillow with a thud.

"Mommy! Mommy!" The wailing continued, growing even louder. My heart was pounding with fury and my breaths became pants. I attempted to sit up again, but failed miserably. Suddenly I felt a stabbing cramp in my side.

Knowing I wouldn't be able to reach her in time, I threw my arm behind me, frantically smacking at the space behind me, searching for the warm body of my husband.

"Honey. Honey. HONEY!" I finally shouted, continuing to bat at him, awkwardly attempting to awaken him.

"Huh? What? What's going on?" He mumbled deliriously.

"Babe, something's wrong with Chloe. She's screaming and I'm stuck. I can't get up. She's screaming louder and louder. Something's wrong. Please! Hurry! Run!" I pleaded desperately.

He rolled out of bed and clumsily stumbled across the room, nearly tripping over the laundry basket at the foot of the bed. I heard the thuds as he slightly fell against the door and felt around for the handle. As he threw our door open and then the girls' room door, I heard the screams grow louder.

"What's the matter, Chloe?" I heard him mumble.

Her screams and cries continued.

"Chloe! What's wrong?" He tried again, this time a little more coherent-sounding.

"My monkey's on the floor", she sobbed pathetically.

"What?" He mumbled.

"My monkey is on the floor", she enunciated each word deliberately through her sobs.

I heard him grunt as he stooped to pick it up and place it in her arms. Instantly the crying stopped and my poor husband stumbled back to our room and collapsed in the bed.

"What in the world? Is she screaming about her monkey?" I asked in a frustrated tone.

"I don't know. I don't know what she wants." And that was it. He was out. Poor guy.

Just to let you know how ridiculous this whole thing was - Chloe's bed is like 5 inches from the floor. All she had to do was reach her hand down and pick up the dang monkey! Instead she threw a screaming fit, which disturbed our sleep and caused me to have some pretty good, painful contractions for the next hour.

THANK YOU CHLOE!!!!!