Around 5:00am this morning, there was a bump in our house. It sounded like something plastic falling and it came from downstairs.
I immediately sat straight up in bed and whispered, “What was that?”
“Dunno…” Chris mumbled as he rolled over.
“What WAS that?” I whispered, kicking Chris in the leg because everyone knows that “What was that” in the middle of the night is wife code for, “Go look and see.” But Chris only grunted and went back to sleep. So, I got up and did what I always do. I turned on the hall light and went to check on the kids. Finding everyone where they were supposed to be, I crawled back into bed.
As I laid there, waiting for another sound, I thought back to one night this summer when Chris had once again ignored my middle of the night pleas to search our house from top to bottom. You see, I am prone to doing this. I’m a terrible sleeper. Just awful. I have trouble falling asleep, I have trouble staying asleep, and I’m a light sleeper on top of it all. Consequently, I wake Chris up all the time in the middle of the night.
Last summer, I woke up one night because I heard a helicopter and it sounded close. So, I kick Chris and say, “I hear a helicopter and it sounds close.”
To which I get a muffled grunt.
I kicked him again, but he wasn’t budging. So, I climbed out of bed, peeked through my bedroom curtains, and HOLY CRAP! THERE WAS A HELICOPTER OUT THERE! He was hovering over our street and he had a search light pointed down into someone’s yard.
So, I whisper loudly to Chris, “HOLY CRAP! THERE IS A HELICOPTER OUT THERE! He is hovering over our street and he has a search light pointed down into someone’s yard!”
“Come to bed, Katie,” Chris mumbled.
But I couldn’t because just at that moment, a swarm of cop cars pulled down my street. They had lights on, but no sirens, and there were probably 10-15 cars.
So, I whispered loudly to Chris, “A SWARM OF COP CARS PULLED DOWN OUR STREET! THEY HAVE LIGHTS ON, BUT NO SIRENS, AND THERE ARE PROBABLY 10-15 CARS!”
“I’m not getting up, no matter what you tell me,” Chris mumbled. “Come to bed.”
“No, really, Chris. Get up. Come look at this.”
(Full Disclosure: In the past, I have tricked Chris into getting up and searching the house by saying things like, “I see flashlight beams!” or “I think I hear Gracie crying.” And every time I trick him in the middle of the night, he gets mad. He’s so sensitive.)
“Katie, I’m not falling for that crap. Come back to bed and quit.”
But I couldn’t because just then, someone ran out from behind a bush and the police started chasing them towards our house, with the helicopter beam pointed straight on him.
So, now, I start to legit panic. “OH MY GOSH! SOMEONE RAN FROM BEHIND A BUSH AND THE POLICE ARE CHASING THEM TOWARDS OUR HOUSE WITH THE HELICOPTER BEAM POINTED STRAIGHT ON HIM!”
“GET UP!” I whispered louder.
“I am not getting up. You’re being ridiculous.”
At this point, they have tackled the guy in our front yard and are in the process of wrestling him into handcuffs. And, basically, my head is about to pop off in excitement and fear and so I whisper to Chris, “I’M SERIOUS! COME LOOK AT THIS!”
“Not falling for it,” Chris mumbled from somewhere inside our comforter.
Over the next half hour, they proceeded to arrest this guy, put him in the cop car, and gradually, the helicopter and most of the other cop cars left until it was just two cars and a few officers to tie things up. The drama was over. Chris slept on.
The next morning, I told him I couldn’t believe he had slept through that and he laughed and said condescendingly, “Okay, Mom…”
He never did believe me.