Life With Boys

Life with boys … the one where Matt remembers how effective my startle response really is … Saturday night, 12:42 a.m. … we’ve been waiting on Morgan to get home from the band competition forever … in the meantime, we have watched John Wick 2 and at least three creepy X-Files episodes (I have clearly lost all control of the remote) … I am tired, drugged (lots of fun vertigo drugs here) and wobbly (walking in the dark is a challenge) … I have finally done my nightly checks … “Did you brush your teeth? Are you wearing your retainer – No, really wearing it. No, put it in I can hear that it is not in there” … I make it back to my side of the bed in the dark … glasses are not on, completely concentrating on not running into the end of the bed (again) or tripping over a cat … I’m pretty much blind … and then … my amazing husband, who has known me and my cartoon character reaction function for more than 20 years … grabs me from where he is laying on the floor between the bed the wall in the complete dark (all stalker/serial murderer style) and “proceeds to scares the bejesus” out of me … and I let out a scream on a decibel level that would rival the tornado siren … this brings everyone – boys, cats – running … and he laughs … the jackass laughs … and I start to cry – I’ve just had enough (and we are not talking little boo hoo cry – we are talking inconsolable toddler, how dare you break my granola bar cry)… And he is still smirking today … I may always love him, but I do not always like him …