What Goes Bump In The Night

Shushing and rocking the baby, waiting for her to throw in the towel. Switching between the Late Late Show, oh how I love his accent, and Dr Who when I hear sounds of moving metal.... Must be the heater and cold temps causing the sheet metal in the duct work to flex. Yeah.... that's it.

Still watching, still shushing, still hearing this noise on and off. One of the dogs must have found a way under the house and they are pushing on the duct work. Yeah.... that's it.

Little finally gives up and goes to sleep. She sleeps in the rocking bassinet beside the couch. I roll over and start to doze when I hear the metal sound again. Only this time it's coming from the vent three feet from the couch. At this point I'm not sure if it's the fact the weeping angels truly freak me out or perhaps I am as paranoid as everyone thinks I am. I actually took the tactic I did as a kid. I refused to turn away from the wall and pretended I didn't hear it. LALALALA......

Hour and a half later.... good morning little one. You do know 3 am is not the best time to be awake, right? More shushing, more rocking, more Craig Ferguson... did I mention I LOVE his voice. Enough that I DVR the show just to watch the opening monologue. It's been nice catching up.

Click, Click, wooble, wooble. There is it again..... Did I just see something move? Holy crap! The vent is moving! Rat?! Opossum?! Raccoon?! I throw a pillow over the vent. Go away, go away, go away.

Morning comes. Silly girl. How ridiculous. I mention to Chris while I'm making breakfast that he might check for holes in the skirting of the house. "I swear something was under there last night."

No holes, no signs of animals. Maybe the whole thing was a dream or a hallucination brought on by sleep deprivation. The day goes by as usual. Dinner. Bedtime. He is holding Lydia, sitting on one couch watching tv. I am trying to catch up on my sleep on my couch. I hear something from the other side of the room.

"What's that sound?" I ask, still in a fog.

"The vent."

I'm wide awake now. He is telling me to go get the flashlight, "FRACK NO! Give me the baby! You deal with it!"

I know we both have a look of terror on our faces. I have thoughts of rabies spinning in my head. He's probably wondering if he has enough time to get to the pellet gun. Oh, crap! Too late! Up comes the vent.....

......and out pops Hocus. The most perfectly named cat in the world because he scared the crap out of both of us.