In the early morning, before the sun peeked over the valley, I dressed quietly by the dim light of a small lamp. While I dug into a drawer for a clean shirt, the bedroom door rattled. That of itself was not abnormal. Our house is an odd combination of home improvements and old construction. A creaking section of floor or a settling door is expected. But then the door rattled again. I saw the doorknob jiggle.
I’ve seen this horror film…
Like the bumbling blonde, destined to die in the first ten minutes of the movie, I opened the door. Luckily for me, we have no mad killers living down the road, and the poltergeists that dwell in our house are still only knee high. When the door opened only a crack, one of our little poltergeists darted in.
#8 rushed by me with a Dr. Seuss book under one arm, and made right for his sleeping mother. As I am always quick on my feet in the morning, I snagged the almost two year-old before he could wake Wife.
With the little boy in one arm, and his Dr. Seuss book in the other, I carried him back down the hall and put him back to bed. After he was tucked in, I knew the quiet of the morning would go on without any more disturbances.
Out where we live, the silence can be utterly perfect. Right before dawn, before the day birds awake, the hush can wrap around you like a smooth pane of glass. In the stillness, I poured a cup of coffee and turned to nearly trip over #8.
He stood behind me, as silent as the dead, with a Dr. Seuss book tucked under one arm. Again, I picked him up and put him to bed, setting his book on the dresser. I sat with him a little, with the hopes that he would fall back to sleep. Then I again walked into the kitchen for my coffee.
I walked across the living room to find my boots, and what did I behold? #8 peeking his head out of the hall. He stood with his neck stretched out, his eyebrows raised, and a Dr. Seuss book under one arm.
What could I say? He got me.
I sat in my chair and beckoned him over. He lost no time crawling into my lap and handing me his book. In the stillness, he listened to me read a few pages of Oh, Say Can You Say. I then let him sit in the chair while I finished my preparations for work. He sat there, flipping through the book, adding no more noise to the room than a ghost.