Monitors

At three a.m., in the darkest of night, a man was in our bathroom. He was speaking softly, but he was in there.

Mr. grabbed the bat hidden under the bed and crept to the bathroom clad in black socks, some boxers that should have been pitched before fatherhood, okay, before we started dating, and some serious bed head.

"Shhhhh. Stay here." my husband whispered in the still of the night.

Nah, I think I'll go make some bacon and eggs while you kick the intruders ass with your little league bat! went through my head as I laid there, listening to this man speak softly from my sink.

Mr. threw on the lights as he burst through the bathroom door, bat ready to strike the whispering giant.

No one.

Trembling, but adrenaline pumping, Mr. swung open the door to the commode.

No one.

But still, the whispering giant was in the room.

Under the sink? Nope?

In the master closet? Uh uh.

And then, oddest thing of all, the sleeping giant started singing.

"What the Fu--" from my husband was interrupted by both of us realizing our neighbor was taking care of his new baby girl and singing her back to sleep.

Sweet Neighbor baby was back to sleep, Neighbor Man kissed her good night and whispered sweet dreams as he climbed into his own bed next to his sleeping wife, and my husband and I were wide awake and laughing.

That baby monitor was perched on our counter in the master bath, whispering sweet nothings in all our ears. Time to change the channel!