Two nights ago I was downstairs in the guest room wrapping Auntie K's birthday gift. The lil' dude's bedroom is right above where I was dutifully wrapping. It was a little past 8pm; I had just tucked her in. I could hear her through the ceiling, doing God-knows-what crazy thing she does.
"Hey," the Dad called. "Come up here a sec,"
I followed his voice upstairs.
"Can you hear the lil' dude?" he asked.
"Yes, I could hear her downstairs. What is she doing? It sounds like ..."
The Dad said, "barking. I think she is barking."
"I thought meowing."
"Wait," he said, listening further. "She's growling. Definitely growling."
I said, "she's weird."
"Now she is howling! The lil' dude is howling!"
If I could be a fly on her wall, I totally would. She works in mysterious ways. And? Just this morning, she somehow woke up on her own, very quietly, removed a bumper from her crib, and pulled all her dirty clothes out of her hamper and smuggled the soiled cargo into her bed. When I went in there to wake her up, I busted her trying to put one of her filthy t-shirts on Curious George.