And I thought we'd be dealing with the kid's nightmares about now...

So I'm sitting up in bed the other night doing my brain training (a NintendoDS game), and Mari is already asleep somewhere beside and to my back when she starts whimpering, tossing and finally thrashing about and crying out.

Now, normally I give her a few soothing pats on the arm and shush her back to a more peaceful sleep but tonight I'm busy with my training so it escalates, culminating with her jerking awake panting and with much palpitation:

"Whoa, Tony, you've gotta wake me when I have a nightmare like that!" she admonishes me groggily.
Wondering how I got designated the Hasslehoff of the bedroom and where I should stick the flags I enquire, "What were you dreaming?"
Dreamily, already drifting back into sleep she confides, "The playdoh was chasing me!"
"You what?", and of course I'm picturing formless blobs of playdoh but nope nothing is quite so simple with my dearheart.
"A playdoh dinosaur! It gripped my arm in it's mouth! And it hurt!", she shudders as she relives her ordeal.
"How big was it?" I ask, presciently guessing what the answer must be knowing my wife as I do.
"Hmf?" Not even the horror of the playdoh dinosaur can long stand betwixt my love and her sleep.
"How big was it?" I say again, speaking in the distinct tones one adopts when unsure if the listener has reverted to understanding only russian as she so often does when only half awake.
"Mmmm BIG! Like THIS big" She replies, raising her arm about a foot off the bed.
"Mmmm huge" says I in the best approximation of seriousness I can muster under the circumstances.

And with that I give her arm a belated pat and send her off back to sleep and hopefully no further run-ins with The Dreaded Midget Playdoh Dinosaur of Hill Manor.