But those days are mostly behind us now. These days, the laughs are derived from HOW she is sleeping, not where. That kid of mine can find some unbelievable positions to contort her body into. Every night as we go to bed, we creep in and giggle at that night's acrobatics.
Tonight, Neil went up to bed ahead of me. A few minutes later, while I puttered around on the computer in the basement, I received a text from Neil. "Sophie is not up here." As you might imagine, my first horrible thoughts ran to the likes of alien abduction or the David Bowie goblin king spiriting her away. But then I got another text, with a photo, which I opened about the time I hit the stairs to the 2nd floor. Neil had found her...under our bed.
|Notice her arm up on the bed frame.|
According to her, she had gone into our room looking for the iPad to get in some late night Power Ranger viewing on the Netflix app. When she couldn't find it because I had it with me downstairs, she dragged several pillows and blankets in and climbed under our bed. In protest? Perhaps she went under there to lay in wait so she could ambush me and run off with the iPad. I don't really know. When asked about her motives, she was not exactly forthcoming. Having a conversation with a preschooler in the best of circumstances is like talking to a person who's had seven, maybe eight, Irish Carbombs, talking to one who is half asleep ups the frustration quotient exponentially.
I saw Pet Sematery as a teenager, and Gage under the bed has haunted me ever since. So while we got a good laugh out of it tonight, I will say this: if that child of mine ever thinks to lurk under my bed and scare me with an ankle grab as I walk by, I'm not sure I can be responsible for my actions.