I’ve never been called sneaky except when trying to steal an extra cookie from the “I made those for the party” pile and I have the agility of a rhinoceros with arthritic knees. But once I put the little princess to bed I start prancing around the house like I’m auditioning for the ballet in an attempt to keep quiet. It’s all for naught though because I don’t think I’ve ever stepped on a board without hearing it scream in creaking pain so no matter how lightly I attempt to tip-toe, sound echoes through the house. In other words, if your house is robbed while you are sleeping chances are I’m not tops on the list of suspects. It’s almost to the point where if I’m the last one up I might as well just sleep on the couch rather than waking the kiddo. Come to think of it if I’m up past 8:30pm chances are that I’m the last one up anyway.
Luckily though she’s the only one in danger of waking up during my stomp routine. The Mrs sleeps harder than anyone I’ve ever met. While trying to wake her up I start nice with a gentle brush of the hair which moves into a shake, a tickle, then a pinch, then lift of the arm, until finally I just decide to quit and try to dunk her hand in warm water or draw on her face to try to get a laugh. Once she wakes up though its time for the crapshoot of either trying to catch up with whatever conversation she wants to continue from her dream or try to apologize for whatever I did in her dream. Most time after she’s completely woken up and tells me what I did in the dream I’ll agree that I probably deserved whatever hatred was thrown my way.
Over the last month I’ve had the chance to map the weak spots on the floor like a real-life game of Minesweeper so the lil’ one has the opportunity to sleep soundly without waking her from her beauty sleep. One of these days I’ll figure out how to keep the bed from creaking too so she can sleep through “wrestling practice” without thinking that I’m hurting her mommy.