Stranger Things Have Happened, But I Can't Remember Any

What a sweet bedtime it was. Both girls bathed and snuggled, read to and tucked. As I was turning out the eldest child's light, I mentioned that I was headed over the Grandmama's side to have a little chat (I mentioned it, in case she awoke and went searching for me). I spent the next hour and a half watching American Idol (don't you roll your eyes at me) and chatting it up with the mommers. At around 9:30, I ventured back over to our side, and tripped on a stuffed yellow dog on the floor of the laundry room. My thought:

"Did I really walk over this on my way here, earlier? Wow, I am really getting lazy"

I continued into the kitchen. My next thought:

"I know I put that tambourine on the shelf before I bathed, snuggled, read, and tucked. Am I going bonkers?"

Now walking with a stuffed yellow dog and a tambourine in hand, I happen upon the dried out markers I had thrown in the trash earlier that day. They were sitting in hallway, looking rather suspicious.

"Now, I KNOW those weren't there and hour ago!"

But what's this? Her bedroom door is open. Did I catch her in the act of what must have been a pretty rad party of one? What? No one in her bed. Curiouser and curiouser. I continue to follow the trail of clues. Outside my bedroom, I spy my winter boots and other shoes strewn across the floor, obviously recently admired and modeled. I told myself:

"Follow the trail, See where it leads."

Into my room I crept, and there she is, sleeping soundly on my side, surrounded by her animals, bathed, snuggled, read to and tucked.

Just knowing she was living it up in the house, sneaking around after bedtime, causes me to pause and smile. The evidence declares her delight at having the whole place to herself. That's MY girl. I love her to pieces.