I was fast asleep in my room when suddenly I sensed it. I sensed that someone was there and was watching me. Now normally I do not pay much attention to such things, but since there was a famous murder on our property one hundred years ago, I am a little skittish. Not sure what to do, I just lay there nervously. Seconds later I again sensed the presence. This time I did not know what to make of it, as surely it was real. Then I heard breathing and the gentle pitter patter of feet. Suddenly out of nowhere there was silence, and then a thud, as a forty pound projectile fell upon me as a lay in bed.
The silence and ensuing “thud” was followed by the words “wake up Uncle Andrew!” It was 6:30am and my niece and nephew were visiting from Vermont. Now, I suppose a better person would have jumped out of bed and began coloring and reading stories, but I am not such a person. I was unsure what to do. Do I tell her to go away? Do I wake up? Instead I decided I would just do nothing and shut my eyes, secretly hoping she would go away. Unfortunately, my niece would not give up that easy. Ten more leaps onto to my back and still no movement from my tired, battered body. She craftily grabbed a large pillow and began hitting me across the face cheerfully declaring “wake up Uncle Andrew, I want to play.” Well it was 6:30am and Uncle Andrew did not want to play. So for the next ten minutes “thump” after “thump” I was beat up by a six year old. Yet for some strange reason I did not give in. Feeling put off by my refusal to acknowledge being attacked with pillows, my niece decided she would try to wake me by putting a pillow over my face and sitting on me. Now I must admit I almost gave in to her ploys to wake me, but still my exhaustion and stubbornness allowed me to hold on. That is, it allowed me to hold onto until she unleashed a nuclear weapon from her arsenal of wake up ploys, the dreaded nose. Until yesterday I mistakenly believed there was no noise worse in the world, than the high pitch screeching of a small child, I was wrong. The high pitched screaming of a six year old imitating an alarm clock is hands down the worst.
After covering my head with the pillow I muttered the magic words that rescued me from my distress, “why don’t you go wake up Grandpa, I think he wants to read you a story and make you breakfast.” Then I heard pitter patter yet again and then silence, followed by "zzzzzzzzz," the most beautiful sound in the entire world.