It was a cold morning, the rain gently tapping against the window as his green eyes fluttered open. He let out a long yawn as he stretched, his arms hitting a soft surface as he extended them.
"Good morning, son." A white-haired man said in a comforting tone, letting his eyes graze the angelic face of his son, rightfully returned to him.
"It's too early to wake up." The boy said, rolling onto his stomach and tucking his head carefully underneath his pillow. "I was having a good dream." He mumbled, closing his eyes.
"Oh, yeah, what about?" His father asked, his hands working busily on the piece of wood beneath him.
"Well, I was driving a motorcycle, going really fast!" The boy sat up, a grin spreading across his face, remembering how the wind had felt rushing past his ears.
"That must have been fun." His father responded, smiling with heavy eyes in response.
"And I wasn't alone," the boy giggled, his green eyes sparkling mischievously.
His father smiled, but continued to work, "uh huh" he answered, prodding his son to tell him more.
"There was a lady with me. A beautiful lady with blonde hair." The boy bit his lower lip, recalling the excitement of his late night imagination.
"Oh, yes, that's very nice." His father responded.
"She was very nice, her name was, um…Emma, I think."
The elderly man dropped his masterpiece, not wincing when it made a loud clunk when it hit the floor. "Emma, you say?" He stared at his son, eyebrows furrowed, no longer smiling. "Answer me, boy!"
"Yes, Father." The small boy responded, looking up at his father with timid eyes.
"Okay, get dressed Pinocchio, we have to go see Mother Superior."