No Lies Here!

Today Brent was fabulous, really!  I am truly enjoying this reflection of my days with him because it does seem like I am having more good times than bad...it didn't always feel like that before!  Maybe we're just going through a good streak, or maybe "three" is still being good to me...

Tonight, Matt was out late for a work meeting.  At precisely the moment Brent's head hit the pillow, the doorbell rang.  The dog started barking, the kid jumped out of bed, running for the door, screaming.  Who. in. the. heck. was. ringing. my. doorbell?  Everyone knows Brent goes to bed at 8.  Wth.

I grabbed my phone, which proceeded to lock up, then dial Matt.  I considered not answering the door - sure, the lights were on, but the tv was off.  Oh, wait, the screaming child. Who could possibly be at my door this time of night?  In the past few months, the neighboring areas have been hit by people breaking into cars- then stories of them ringing the doorbell and going to the backdoor if no one answered.  This is beyond terrifying for anyone - especially someone that stays home all day with a little one!

The doorbell rang three more times.  I answered the door.  It was the "kid" from across the street.  I say kid, but he's 18 and lives with his parents.  He tells me he's locked out of his house and needs to use my phone.  At this point, I've only told Matt to "hold on" so if someone was planning on killing me, he'd at least hear me scream.  I tell him I'll call him back and hand the "kid" my phone.  Meanwhile, Brent and the dog are doing a crazy barking/screaming/giggling/running in circles kind of dance.  I tell Brent, "Go get your Dad so he can get Duke."  My motive was to let the "kid" think I wasn't there alone.  My child does not usually speak much.  Would you believe he stopped, looked at me, put his hands out like "where is it?" and proceeded to loudly announce (in case my lack of memory also effected my hearing?), "Mama, Yaya NO HOUSE!" (Mama, Dada not at house!)  Yeah, okay, Brent, thanks for nothing.  Since I didn't respond in a way he apparently found pleasing, he proceeded to look at me with a stern expression and repeat, "Mama, Yaya, nooooo hoooouuuusssse."  Okay, Brent, thanks.  He must have been truly confused as to why I believed Dada was in the house because he continued to repeat this and look at me with the deepest of concern.

The "kid" returned my phone.  I shut the door, relieved.  I bent down and explained to Brent that when someone rings the doorbell at night and Dad isn't home, it frightens me and I want whoever is there to think Dada is home.  He placed his hand on my arm, leaned forward, looked deep into my eyes and slowly, and as carefully as he could, enunciated, "Mama, Yaya no HOUSE.  Noooo."  He added a head shake for emphasis.  Then he turned and walked away from me with, "I 'iss Yaya" (I miss Dada).  He has it so rough - having to spend every day with his delirious mother.  But seriously, where did he learn to talk to someone like they're stupid?

Lesson: Remember this moment.  "Lying" is going to bite me in the ass again someday when he's listening.