The Whistler

This story is too good not to share.

See, I have never been good at being alone at night. In fact, I think I was married for three years before I ever spent a night alone. I’d go to my Mom’s or have someone sleep here whenever Brad was out of town.

As time went on, I got better, got an alarm system…*grew up* but I still never liked it. After the night, I think everyone, including me, was nervous that I wouldn’t ever sleep at night again. I think TJ and Stephanie moved in for like a week, my Mom, Dad and brothers all took turns sleeping on my couch. The night after the funeral I totally thought I would be fine, but I felt like the whole world was at Brad’s funeral and every one of those people knew that I was home alone. I felt like a target. So I called Daddy.

Then Leslie, my east coast nanny mom came to spend the week with me, relieving my family of the baby sitting job for a while.

After that, I decided that I couldn’t do this forever. I had to be a big girl. Like so many other things, I had no choice.

So, the sun started to set and the night came on. I got all ready convinced myself that I’d be fine, convinced my family that I’d be fine, and went to bed.

Leah insisted on sleeping in my bed, (okay, I pulled her in with me), Casey, my dog got cozy on the floor and I tried to fall asleep to some familiar TV.

It didn’t work. I heard every single sound in my house, I pressed pause a dozen times, trying to decipher if the creek I’d just heard was giant gross man size, or tiny wind against the window size, and had to keep going out to check the alarm and all the doors *again*

Then, at about 2 am, I heard a sound. A serious sound. Not some innocent house creak that my overactive and stupidly scared mind could turn into a massive gang robbery.

I crept out of bed. Leah stirred a little, but didn’t act like she was going to wake up. I stepped over Casey, the sleeping guard dog, to go investigate the threat that his well trained senses didn’t seem to pick up.

Sneaking down the hall, I flipped on the lights and checked the family room and kitchen. I crept to the stairs and just as I was about lean over the railing to catch the man that I knew was at the bottom just waiting to jump out at me,

Someone whistled.

I’m sure I made some noise that would be embarrassing if anyone heard and ran to my room.

As I careened down the hall, trying to figure out how I was going to get my gun, call 911, safely drop my daughter out the window while shooting the creepy whistler who had surely made it up the stairs by now, he whistled again.

It wasn’t a loud whistle. It was soft, drawn out. A high note, dragging out to a lower note. Creepy.

I got to my room, ready to set my set my Tahsha’s-hard-core-plan into action, and there was the culprit. The whistler was in my room.

Leah.

My three year old daughter was awake, sitting up and showing off her well practiced skill of whistling for the dog.

Yep.

I decided I wasn’t ready to spend the night alone yet.