Another sound produces a menacing growl from my dog - warning the perpetrator of the dire consequences of their actions of breaking into our home. I want to pull the covers over my head and hide because as everyone knows - that creates a fortress of security that no criminal mastermind could possibly infiltrate. But, my babies are sound asleep and it's my job as the adult to keep them safe. Dammit. This whole "responsibility" thing is overrated.
Shivering, I slowly slide off the California king. I grab the only weapon at arm's reach: an iPhone. I figure I can use the flashlight app to blind the burglar or at least occupy him long enough with an impromptu game of Fruit Ninja for me to call the police.
Tip-toeing for an element of surprise, I slowly advance toward the hallway. I am shaking but trying to be brave to face my nemesis and protect the nest. Only a few more steps to the staircase...one...two. In the dark I see movement. My heart is pounding in my throat. The dog is barking. I can't think.
I flip on the light and get ready to whip out some sweet karate moves on the burglar...who turns out to be my 2-year-old.
Emmeline: "Hi Mommy!"
Me: "Emmeline. Holy. God. You scared the heck out of me. What are you doing up? It's almost one o'clock in the morning."
Emmeline: "Welax Mommy. Me are goin' downstairs a watch a show."
Me: "Um, no you're not. You're going back to bed. It's the middle of the night."
Emmeline: "Oh, cwap."
Oh crap, alright. So much for one night of unadulterated sleep. When do I get to take a business trip?
|Do NOT make me challenge you to a Words with Friends death match, thief. |