I got the bright idea to polish off Isaac's first-year photo album tonight. This required my entering his room to get the album so I could remember what pictures I had last ordered.
I sneaked in at 8 o'clock, 55 minutes after I'd put him down for the night. Turning the door nob quietly, bouncing softly of the balls of my feet, I was sure he slept undisturbed. After retrieving the aforementioned album, I turned back towards the door.
My heart skipped a beat.
I began to reason with myself like a child scared of a shadow on the wall: its his bear, its a blanket sticking up strangely. It's not him, that's impossible!
I saw a white blob with eyes peering motionlessly over the bumper pad at me. Too still to be my son, or anything else alive for that matter.
I inched towards the bed, still arguing with myself. "You're so stupid, you'll see, its just one of his animals."
My heart was beating wildly.
I reached the bed. Forcing myself to bend at the waist, I moved my face down closer to the "blob." A blink.
All the curse words that chased each other around in my head somehow managed to stay there. "Go to sleep, love Joe. That's right. I love you."
I shut the door quietly then ran like a banshee for the well-lit living room.
This time the french flowed from my lips as I shrieked out the story to Josh.
He, of course, laughed at me for moment before he turned back to his book.
I have an over-active imagination. Isaac's first-year album is now complete. At least I'm not overly dramatic and unproductive. Right?
BOO!
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