WHAT was THAT?!

Ok, I'm going to confess something. Sometimes I'm not the bravest person at night when DH is working last shift.

Saturday night I went to sleep LATE. I was up late, and I looked at the clock. It was almost time to check Little Boy's blood sugar. So I decided to just lie down. When the alarm went off, it scared me half to death. I checked his sugar, and went back to bed.

But about 5:30 am Sunday morning, I heard a noise that woke me up. I could hear a guy's voice. I laid there listening; maybe it was my imagination. But no, I could hear it still. I opened Little Boy's door to see if it was him. No. I opened Baby's door - maybe a toy was talking. No. But I could hear it standing in the hall. It had to be in the garage. Couldn't they hear me walking around? I called DH at work. I was quite freaked out. He told me I could always get the gun. And we hung up. And I didn't hear the voice anymore.

Did they hear what DH said? Was it a toy that just quit? If it was a toy, why did it start talking in the first place? So I laid there in bed with the phone in one hand, and a gun in the other. Wide awake. Eventually I dozed off, just as DH got home. We've determined it was a talking bank the kids got for Christmas from G & G that is still in a box in the garage. I should have gone down and shot it.

Last night when I went to bed, the wind was blowing pretty hard. The wind was making the house creak. After I checked Little Boy's blood sugar, I had a hard time relaxing. Did I just hear the side door on the garage close? Great. I had the phone in my hand again. And just as I was dozing, I heard a loud crash. I couldn't place what the noise could be. It wasn't glass. It wasn't wood. It sounded like a plastic toy or ornament being stepped on and crushed? I laid there, scared, watching the bedroom doorway. DH HAS to put a security door between the garage and basement if I'm ever going to sleep peacefully. (It's just a wooden interior door.) I finally fell asleep. And this morning, I was in bed, waiting for DH to come home, listening to Baby jabber away at me. She had to go to the bathroom. And it dawned on me. The little toilet seat she sits on must have fallen.

Good grief, people.