Chaos Before Bed
Last night Emma went out to see a late movie, and I staid up until she got home, somewhat at the request of Mum. She came in at about 11:30, and we chatted for a few minutes about the movie and then went down to her bedroom where I sleep on a mattress on the floor when I'm here. I flipped on the light and something scuttled across the floor. Something with a hundred legs. Something about the size of my pinky finger. Oh Gross!! A Centipede! Emma and I both shriek slightly and jump backwards, Emma entirely out of the room, and me only to the doorway where I can better survey the situation.
It's nestled into my bedding. Eugh.
I grit my teeth. This is no time to let my girly side come out. There is a bug, and bugs must be dealt with. "Emma," I say, "hand me that slipper."
The next fifteen minutes are spent with me chasing the bug around the room with a slipper, occasionally slapping near it, but darn, are those things fast! Emma watches my efforts from the safety of the bed, adding shrieks of mock-alarm whenever I uncover it from somewhere and giggles of laughter whenever I miss or move quickly away lest it crawl over my feet.
Finally when it scuttles under the mattress and I'm having to lift the corner of the mattress with one hand while swatting at it with the other Emma gasps out through choking giggles, "I have to pee" and runs back up the stairs. No sooner is she gone than smack I hit it. "Got it!", I holler at her disappearing feet. Wait, it's still moving!! How is this possible?? smack-smack! Two more hits and it is gone from this world. But wait, I have a problem. I can't put the mattress down without smearing bug-guts into it, and I can't get anything to clean the bug-guts up without putting the mattress down. I'm frozen in the middle of the floor, holding up on corner of a foam mattress and staring down in a pondering manner at the pile of bug guts on the floor when Emma comes back in. The sight sets her into giggles again, but she helps me clean it up.
When this is over neither one of us very much relishes the thought of sleeping on the floor that night so we decide to share her twin bed, much as we used to when we were somewhat younger and somewhat smaller. We set to organizing the bed, and as I lean over to place the pillows on the bed, which had been turfed off in the excitement, I place my hand on the foot of the bed for leverage and - it's wet. Really wet. My hand is now dripping in...Dripping in what? The window is open, but it hasn't been raining. There are no upended glasses in sight. With something like apprehensiveness floating through my mind, I lean down and sniff the sheets. Please, let this not be what I think it is - and it is! Cat urine. Eugh.
Emma once more dissolves into giggles, and this time I can't help but join her. We strip the bedding and get clean sheets on again, and finally lie down to sleep. As we lie there, surprisingly comfortable together in a twin bed, and staring at the ceiling, I say, "Emma, let's not make this a nightly ritual."
Emma agrees.
It's nestled into my bedding. Eugh.
I grit my teeth. This is no time to let my girly side come out. There is a bug, and bugs must be dealt with. "Emma," I say, "hand me that slipper."
The next fifteen minutes are spent with me chasing the bug around the room with a slipper, occasionally slapping near it, but darn, are those things fast! Emma watches my efforts from the safety of the bed, adding shrieks of mock-alarm whenever I uncover it from somewhere and giggles of laughter whenever I miss or move quickly away lest it crawl over my feet.
Finally when it scuttles under the mattress and I'm having to lift the corner of the mattress with one hand while swatting at it with the other Emma gasps out through choking giggles, "I have to pee" and runs back up the stairs. No sooner is she gone than smack I hit it. "Got it!", I holler at her disappearing feet. Wait, it's still moving!! How is this possible?? smack-smack! Two more hits and it is gone from this world. But wait, I have a problem. I can't put the mattress down without smearing bug-guts into it, and I can't get anything to clean the bug-guts up without putting the mattress down. I'm frozen in the middle of the floor, holding up on corner of a foam mattress and staring down in a pondering manner at the pile of bug guts on the floor when Emma comes back in. The sight sets her into giggles again, but she helps me clean it up.
When this is over neither one of us very much relishes the thought of sleeping on the floor that night so we decide to share her twin bed, much as we used to when we were somewhat younger and somewhat smaller. We set to organizing the bed, and as I lean over to place the pillows on the bed, which had been turfed off in the excitement, I place my hand on the foot of the bed for leverage and - it's wet. Really wet. My hand is now dripping in...Dripping in what? The window is open, but it hasn't been raining. There are no upended glasses in sight. With something like apprehensiveness floating through my mind, I lean down and sniff the sheets. Please, let this not be what I think it is - and it is! Cat urine. Eugh.
Emma once more dissolves into giggles, and this time I can't help but join her. We strip the bedding and get clean sheets on again, and finally lie down to sleep. As we lie there, surprisingly comfortable together in a twin bed, and staring at the ceiling, I say, "Emma, let's not make this a nightly ritual."
Emma agrees.
posted by Haley @ 10:11 p.m.
