So here I was, sitting here trying to decide which topic I wanted to write about, and something grabs my leg. Not in a scary way or anything close to that. I just felt a calm little hand gently pat my knee while another arm rested on my thigh.
My first thought was, "That dog is getting on my nerves." Jack, our very affection-hungry dog has a bad habit of coming up and slobbering all over whatever part of your body he can rest his head. Not only is it disgusting, its pretty annoying. Especially when you're wearing clean pants.
But in this case, no. It was my daughter. Literally, ten seconds before this occurred I noticed she was sitting peacefully on the couch watching Word World and munching on her peanut butter sandwich I made her for lunch. I turn around, log in and start to blog, and then the knee pat.
I never heard a thing.
She could have stabbed me in the kidney and I'd never had known who got me. She could have slipped some poison into my drink and nobody would have ever thought it possible. How did she climb off the couch so quietly? No grunt, no squee, nothing. Just silent death creeping up behind me. Had she hesitated by about two minutes, I no doubt would have heard her break wind and grunt as she destroyed another diaper.
Its like she picked her timing too perfectly.
There's something very creepy about this. Very creepy. Granted, my dad loves to hunt, my grandfather loved to hunt, and of course, as a teenager I spent some time in the woods slaying just about any kind of animal the great state of Illinois' hunting license permits you to kill. Perhaps stalking her prey is in her blood.
Or she's probably a small, deadly assassin just letting me know that she can end me at any time of her choosing.
Sneaky little ninja kid...
