Last night my brief slumber was interrupted by a horrific noise. It came across the baby monitor (I know, he’s 5) and reminded my just-moments-before sleeping brain of a demonic clown’s cackle.
After my pulse returned to a more normal pace, I decided I needed to investigate.
It turns out some children’s toys should not be brought into one’s home. Ever.
Because sometimes Middlest wants to remember just what the toy sounds like and turns it on. And then Biggest takes it to bed with him and accidentally rolls over in the night, setting it off. And then, in a panic throws it across the room where it waits…at the top of the stairs, for a very tired mom to find. Waiting for her.
And then, the things that go bump in the night just might be animated cow that moos and then breaks into a maniacal laughter while shaking. Or maybe the thing that goes bump in the night is a mom as she high-tails it back down the stairs. Maybe.