Beware of the Man Who Saws Plastic. . .

. . .and the sleepwalking nine year old.

Writer's Workshop with Mama Kat.
Prompt of Choice:
#6 -Share of sleepwalking story.

I come from a family of interesting sleeping habits. My brother used to sleep walk often, I would carry on nonsense conversations while sleeping, and my husband chomps his teeth and makes strange sound effects while sleeping, with occasional bursts of craziness statements. But no one can outdo Hannah.

Since Hannah was potty training, we learned to wake at the slightest noise from her. It was really in our best interest, the sheets, and possibly the closest closets interest to get up immediately and escort her to the bathroom.

Hannah is a very sound sleeper. . .and always needs to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night. Add that to a tendency to sleepwalk and a habit of saying interesting things in her sleep, and we have endless night time entertainment on a regular basis whether we want it or not.

It generally begins with moaning, followed by sleepwalking that has twice ended in closets, once a suitcase and other less than optimal locations for a night time potty run. Usually these days she makes it to the toilet, but we are trained to wake up to make sure so we have made a game of it.

Rob will run in and say something like: "Did you see the elephant?" And she will mumble some off the wall reply. And we will laugh. And she will go back to bed none the wiser.

A couple weeks ago, during a heavy rain storm, Hannah burst out of her room and came flying into ours, sort of half awake, and in a panicked voice said: "I hear a man outside my window sawing plastic!"

"What?!" We both say and quickly hurry to her room. . .not because we think there actually IS a man outside her window sawing plastic, but because we want to see what noise she THINKS is a man outside her window sawing plastic. And to tuck her half asleep self back in bed.

I have to say, after listening to the rain drip off the gutter at a quick pace, it DID rather sound like someone sawing plastic. I assured her the next day when we told her about it that it had been a very apt description. . . not that she appreciated that when, for a week straight, Rob rushed into her room at bed time to whisper, "I am the man who saws plastic," in a creepy voice. He even climbed out on the roof below her window one night to scratch her screen.

It's really a wonder our kids only sleepwalk and talk and rarely have nightmares. . .THAT I would totally understand!