MyThreeDaughters

Wife was at work.
As usual, I read books to Rosebud (“ANOTHER BOOK! BUT DADDY…! ONE MORE BOOK! ANOTHER BOOK!”).
I put Rosebud in her crib and sang songs (“ANOTHER SONG! BUT DADDY! WAIT, BUT WAIT! I HAVE A QUESTION!”).
Then, I went and read books to the other two.
We finished, and headed down the hallway to tuck them in.
Halfway down the hall…creak, moan, creak, went the floorboards.
Someone was coming up the steps.
My heart skipped. I beckoned for help from the Lord (O.K., under my breath, I muttered one of his full names.)
Creeeeeeaaaaak.
“WHAT?!” said one of the girls.
“Huh?!” said the other girl.
The girls grabbed me and tried to hide behind me. I briefly thought about using Elizabeth, the lighter of the two, as a projectile. I then wondered if I would have time to run back to the room and grab our home defense mechanism, “The Instrument of Extreme Facial Laceration,” a.k.a., a rusty machete.
No time.
Oh, please be Wife who has gotten off work at an unbelievably early hour.
Then we saw it.
Thirty inches tall and packed with terror. Its blue eyes glistening. Already at the top of the stairs.
Rosebud.
She’d climbed out of her crib and come to hunt us down.
“Daddy, I forgot to say goodnight.”
Goodnight, Rosebud, now STAY IN YOUR (*&%$^%#) CRIB!
I went downstairs and watched an FBI show about home invasions. It wasn’t scary at all.