Scooby Snacks

There I stood in the kitchen, the picture of pure domestic bliss. The house was (somewhat) clean, my makeup was (partially) applied, my hair was (kind of) combed, and I was (sort of) dressed. But, best of all, after an hour of my best wild wild west wrangling, I had roped and subdued the tiny terrorist into the sweetest of nap time slumbers. I practically skipped out of her room as I oh so quietly closed her door, danced over the squeaky floorboard, gave my dog the look that said "you bark at the mailman even a little and you're pound bound" and stopped for a moment on my way to collapse on the couch just to revel in the serene sound of silence.

As I eagerly anticipated working out the mind numbing reality television show in which I was going to fully indulge, I heard the faintest sound of knocking. The dog's ears perked right up as she emitted a low growl. I frantically lunged at her as I whisper shouted SSSSHHHHHH! She looked at me apologetically. She didn't want to wake up the toddler any more than I did. I glanced toward the front door, confirmed that no one was standing there, and, convinced that both the dog and I should have our hearing checked, proceeded to turn on the tv.

I was only two seconds into the glorious drama that is Southern Charm when I heard the sound again. Knock, knock, knock. The dog jumped up, the hair raised on her back, poised to bark and ruin nap time and my subsequent veg time. I couldn't let that happen. I quieted the dog as I tiptoed toward the front door, ready to yell at what I thought for sure was the UPS guy. Thanks for supporting my online shopping addiction, Mr. UPS Man, but I swear to God if you wake the baby it is so on!

But no one was at the front door. Fully perplexed, I scratched my head in confusion but nothing - NOTHING - was going to keep me from the comfort of the couch and the endless time suck of the old tube. As I turned my back to the door, I heard it again. This time, the knocking was authoritative and definitive.

What. The. Heck.

The dog and I looked at each other, then looked down the hall, then looked back at each other. Her expression matched my bewildered one as I muttered, in my best Shaggy voice, "Uh oh Scoobs! This isn't good!"

The knocking, you see, was coming from inside the house. My heartbeat quickened as my spidey senses kicked into high gear. Slowly, I walked down the hallway, the pooch following closely behind. I made it to my daughter's room and as I cautiously opened the door and looked down, I saw it....

The tiny toddler terrorist had catapulted herself out of her crib and was furiously knocking on her bedroom door, demanding to be let out! She laughed when she saw my face, patted me on the leg and ran down the hallway with the gusto of an inmate who had tried for years and finally succeeded in busting out of the 'pen.

And as she claimed her new found freedom, I felt the carefully constructed walls of my own autonomy begin to crumble. I almost had a whole hour to myself - And I would have, too, if it hadn't been for that pesky kid!