I know you're out there.
I know, because the closer I get to sleep the sharper my hearing gets.
I lay in bed silently willing my husband to breathe more quietly so I can hear you steal our bikes.
It is nearly 1am, I have checked the bikes twice and each child's bedroom three times. Now I've psyched myself out. Somehow, I skipped turning into my mother and went straight for grandmotherhood. Everyone's a hooligan. I may come off as delusional, certainly paranoid, but I'll have you know the first night we moved here I woke hubby up in a panic and he confirmed that yes, the sound I was hearing was gunshots, but they were miles away.
It's not my fault... I cut my big city teeth in Stepford. It's so weird being in a big house that's freestanding and kind of isolated. (There's tall hedges, alright?)
But Dear Prowlers, let this be my warning to you: If you come on my property at all, I will hear you.
And I will stand by the back door and (passive) aggressively flip the back porch light on and off. As long as it takes, MoFo.
Update: I'm slightly less paranoid than previously thought... the prowlers broke into our car last night and took the stereo. At least they left the carseats. I need a dog, or a wolf. Or a woolly mammoth. Kyla, I think you have a team player in your mammoth wrangling scheme.
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