Don't Mess With Us or We'll Mess With You

Generally, when Zoen wakes up to nurse in the middle of the night, it's a quiet affair... usually wrapped up within 10 minutes or so.  If I bring him in to bed, it's as fast as it takes me to close my eyes again.

So, when I blearily glanced at the clock the other night and saw that it said 4:02am, I was even more confused at the weird flapping, grinding, scraping sound coming from outside. I rocked in the glider for a minute, feeding the baby.  Then, I carefully walked with him over to the window.  I balanced his bottom on my knee and used my free hand to slowly lift the shade. 

I was temporarily blinded by the bright light shining in my window.

What the heck?!

My first thought was whether or not the aliens would have dr. pepper... because, man, it was early.

But then my eyes adjusted and I saw that the light, (which had moved to sweeping our yard), was coming from a police helicopter.  You know, the police helicopter that was shining its spotlight all over our yard. Searching for something. Or SOMEONE.

I slammed the shade down and froze. I listened for a minute, convinced that someone was sneaking around our house.  Then I looked at the dogs, both sound asleep... one had her paws in the air and was snoring.  Worthless creatures.  Didn't they know a killer was on the loose?!

So I followed the next logical step and put my face near Shaun's, "HONEY!  HONEY! WAKE UP!" I whispered.

You all know how he reacts when he's woken out of a sound sleep.  (See here and here).

I shook him again and whispered, "SHAUN YOU HAVE TO GET UP RIGHT NOW! THERE'S A HELICOPTER AND I THINK IT'S SEARCHING FOR A FELON IN OUR YARD!"

He opened his eyes and stared at me.  "What?" Then he closed his eyes again.  I repeated my frantic whispers and told him to go and make sure that the doors were locked.  Especially since our two furry security systems were kind of ineffective at the moment. 

So, Shaun tiptoed out of the bedroom and made his rounds.  After he had been gone for a few seconds, I started to worry that the killer had gotten him and started to prepare the roux to saute his brains. (I used to watch way too many gruesome crime shows).

Then I heard something dragging across the floor.  The killer had gotten my husband!  I looked frantically around for some sort of weapon and found my kid's twirling baton on the floor.  (Because I'd be a fearsome enemy with that!  BACK, INTRUDER, or I'll beat you with a plastic stick full of glitter water!)

But before I could pick it up, Shaun walked back through the door.  "Did anyone get you?!"  He looked at me weirdly and then told me the doors were securely locked and the house was good.  

Phew.

I looked outside to see the helicopter searchlight still panning over our street and a new addition: squad cars driving slowly up and down our road... sirens off, lights on.  Creeeeeeepy, y'all.

I sat down on the floor.  Because that's obviously going to protect me from sinister people intent on harm.

Shaun figured he should place a call to the local police to make sure there wasn't anything we could do or needed to know.  Their helpful advice?

"Stay inside and lock the doors. Do not go outside."  Nothing like vague instructions to avoid the outdoors in your own yard to reassure.  No further information eased our minds even further.  

Or not. 

The helicopter and squad cars eventually moved onto the neighboring roads and I drifted off into a restless sleep, peppered with dreams of large shady characters holding pom poms and trying to rob my house.  

The next morning arrived without incident and Shaun called the police again.  This time, they had this to say, "The issue has been resolved."  No more.  

So we went on our merry way, wondering how the killer was captured and what the story surrounding the late night chase was.  

Two days later, the local online paper posted details.  I clicked on the article eagerly, glad for some impending closure.  

Turns out, there was more than one criminal at large that night. There were TWO.  And they were on a hellbent mission to...

Vandalize.  

Yes.  Our county called a search helicopter out to hunt for two vandals who went on a destructive streak on some neighborhood cars.  

So watch out.  If we catch wind of you starting mischief with a can of spray paint, we'll call a helicopter on your ass.

What?  We're totally hardcore... with our cows and horses and hay bales.  

HARDCORE.