Every Tuesday morning, my husband's alarm goes off at an ungodly pre-dawn hour. It has been his routine for several years now, yet he can't seem to master the art of quiet movement. For a guy who doesn't say much, he is AWFULLY loud in the dark. I've been known to throw out a "shush" or a dramatic sigh. And more than once (or a 100 times) he's caught me throwing a pillow over my head to block out the noise.
We've talked about having him sleep somewhere else in the house, but there's no way I'm letting him anywhere near the kids' rooms. Without fail, I can count on him to: hit snooze (really?), drop his belt on the hardwood floor, and slam the bathroom door shut (TURN THE KNOB. FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, TURN IT!!!!).
Oh that knob.
For the past few months, we've been arguing discussing that knob. During one particularly nasty hissy fit, I might even have subjected him to a demonstration. He doesn't think he should have to think about a knob at the time of day. I think the time of day is the very reason he should.
Because that knob has become something like a crowing rooster for our toddler. As soon as he forgets to turn it and slams the bathroom door shut, my shoulders scrunch and I hold my breath.
"Dada? Dada? DAAAAAAAAAAAAA-DAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
Yes, that's right. While he's in the shower and unable to hear what's happening in the rest of the house, our two-year-old is standing upright in her crib waiting for him to come and visit. Except it's me. And the 15 minutes he spends under a hot stream of water are the very same 15 minutes that I pace the floor of a little girl's room telling her that Dada is at work and that it's not time to get up.
And so this morning, after returning to bed from our daughter's room AGAIN, I had a thought (besides the one about how I knew I wasn't going to be able to fall back to sleep). I think I'm going to build a tin can phone: one can dangling above the crib, the string trailing down the hallway, then wrapping itself around that damn knob for extra hold, and the other can dangling above the shower. Dada and baby could have their own pre-dawn chat and leave me out of it entirely.
Win-win situation, if you ask me.