I have a running joke with my wife that each and every day is a contest for my children to earn the title of my favorite child. While the title is fictional, if it were real, today Macy would have earned the bronze in a three horse race.
I’ll explain so no one calls Child Services.
Last night, about 3:30 in the morning, my wife and I heard noises coming from the downstairs. Perhaps this is a good place to add that our home has been broken into in the past. We had a couple of people break in, steal a bunch of stuff including my wedding ring, some electronics and my in-laws Jeep. It is a fantastic story unto itself, but suffice it to say that chasing people out of my home with a pig on a stick will forever be filed in the back of my head as one of the dumbest things I’ve ever done. Sort of nice to know that my “Fight or Flight” gets amplified knowing that I have a hobby horse/ pig in hand.
Anyway, back to 3:30 this morning. My wife woke me up with I quote I’ve heard a few thousand times in our marital history; “I Think there’s someone in the house”. Now that we have actually HAD a break-in I no longer have a leg to stand on in terms of not using my legs to go check it out.
As I lugged myself out of bed I heard something, a bump, a couple of them actually. Generally, I find myself doing a cursory check of the house, peeking in each of the girl’s rooms, checking the front and back door, making sure there isn’t a snack that’s trying to get away. Last night wasn’t a cursory check kind of night. I really thought there might be someone in the house.
I pulled a t-shirt on and made my way out of the master bedroom. I got a step or two out of my door when Macy jumped out with a “Boo” and grabbed me around my mid-section.
Somehow, I didn’t scream, jump through the roof or soil my pajamas. Macy seemed disappointed that I wasn’t more afraid and in need of a change of PJs. She should have been grateful that I didn’t toss her down the stairs.
I walked her back to bed but was still confused about the noises downstairs. I tucked Macy in and told her I wouldn’t think it was quite as funny of it happened again. I turned down her light and went to close the door but stopped.
“Macy, did you hear noises coming from downstairs?”
“Sorta” Macy responded in a meek voice that is usually reserved for when she’s done something wrong.
“What do you mean ‘sorta’ sweetheart?”
“Well…I rolled a few things down the stairs to get you out of bed. “ She said, pulling her comforter over her head.
I laughed a little. "If only she could use her powers for good" is a thought that has crossed my mind dozens of times about this kid. "She is how I die" is another thought that I have considered.
This morning, I had a little talk with her. I explained that once, her joke was funny, but just once. A lot of bad things could happen in that scenario, but to tell the truth, it was pretty funny.
The lesson this time, girls, is that funny can be a moving target. What was funny today may not be funny tomorrow. Believe you, me Macy, the same joke will not be funny tonight. But I guess there’s a little more than that, ladies. Twice now, I have willingly walked into what may have been a very dangerous situation, once legit, once manufactured by my middle child, and I would do it over and again. Nothing in the world is worth more to me and your mother than you three. We will always try put ourselves between you and the big bad world. Please (I’m looking at you, Macy) please don’t use that fact against me.