I don’t usually go in for conspiracy theories, paranormal phenomenon or the like. Airplane vapor trails don’t make me nervous, and I am not convinced that free Swine Flu vaccine clinics are really government cover-ups for DNA collection. That’s just crazy. But when I cover the webcam lens on my laptop with a Sponge Bob band-aid so no one can see that I haven’t brushed my hair in 3 days while I’m cruising Facebook, that is completely different. And normal. Right? Right? But enough about that. John Lennon and I are meeting Elvis for cocktails.
A few days ago however, I was fitting myself for a tinfoil hat because the END WAS NEAR. I live 20 something miles away from a busy international airport, and on this particular night planes were circling my house in a really weird formation. They were going by like clockwork, every ten minutes or so. It was probably just a few planes in a holding pattern, waiting for clearance to land, but seeing them go by again and again and again was freaking me out. Within an hour I was convinced they were spacecraft. Plus I had just watched “Mars Attacks” and was a bit on edge, having just lost my “World Yodelers Yodel Fest ’05″ CD.
I tucked the kids into bed that night, and pulled their curtains closed extra-tight because extra-terrestrial beings avoid homes with closed curtains. Although I don’t know why I worry so much; they’d bring my son back with a note pinned to his shirt reading “You can have him. He scares us” inside of 10 minutes.
After a restless night listening to the craft travelling to and fro, I woke up alone in the morning. ALONE. There was no one using my pillow. No one was entangled in my blankets. No one had scotched taped my fingers together, and no one had peed, thrown up, or drooled on me. At home my son has never slept for more than a few hours EVER. Of course on sleepovers at my sister’s house he’s out for 12 hours, or until she sends her three dogs in to start eating his feet.
But this night he slept 9 hours in his own bed. In the morning I lay still when I heard him stirring. I heard the familiar noises of drawers being pulled open and cupboards shuffled through. I listened silently as he got up, made his bed, got dressed, brushed his teeth, and made himself breakfast. I couldn’t believe it, and was about to take a peek to confirm it was indeed him when my daughter woke up. She made similar “getting up” noises, and then I heard them exchanging pleasantries. Then the shower started.
If the aliens did indeed land and performed scientific experiments on my children which subsequently caused early morning harmony, independence and pre-teen hygiene, then I say, “Welcome to Earth! Do you like extra salt in your Margarita?”