Real Life Toy Story?!

The other night I fell asleep on the couch. That seems to be the pattern in recent times. My other half and I try to spend some time together when the 2 little ones are in bed, so he invites me to watch TV, with the promise that he won't flip between 20 different programs, but within a few minutes of parking myself on the couch, I crash (so, he still gets to surf between his shows). Anyway, he knows that I'll wake and eventually head up to bed, so when he calls it a night, he just shuts everything down and leaves me there. The other night was no different, except, when I woke at 2:00am, instead of moving up to my bed, I just turned over and went back to sleep on the couch. It was cold and I didn't want to do the sprint between floors, or, if you prefer, I was just being all out lazy.

No big deal, right? Now I should probably fill you in on a bit of back story here. We've had the occassional mouse and mole in our house over the years - typically in the fall when things are really starting to get cold and the critters are looking for warm places. Not a huge issue. We have trays of warfarin that we keep full at all times and that typically deals with the issue beautifully. Every so often we'll see a sign of one IN the living area, at which time we set traps and catch them that way. Regardless of this, I'm still terrified of these blood thirsty jugular attacking beasts not comfortable sharing my space with uninvited pets. The couch I fall asleep on is in the basement. The mice that DO make their way into our living areas typically come from the crawlspace - which of course is in the basement. I have this fear of waking to find a mouse gnawing at my toes or my jugular, so when I wake, and it's dark, I usually quickly make my way up to my bed. Childish? Perhaps. Unfounded? Absolutely not . . . if you recall I posted many moons ago about blood sucking jugular attacking mice in my KITCHEN!!!!

Anyway, back on track now. The other night I was able to overcome that fear (I won't admit out loud that I tucked the blankets tightly around me and over my head so if there happened to be any critters out looking for a meal that I wasn't so 'accessible' to them) and go back to sleep.

Sounds pretty unexciting and non-newsworthy, right? Right.

Well, it was. Until I woke up to Banshee's little Teacup Piggies talking (yes - PLURAL - there were 3 different voices all talking at the same time); chattering about snowboarding and their Mommies. Initially I groggily turned over and put a pillow over my head, dismissing it, all the while cursing whoever it was that thought that was a good gift idea (me!). It took a second for me to get my bearings all together and to realize that 1) that this wasn't just a nap; that it was the middle of the night and no one else was up 2) one needs to push the piggies noses to make them work.

I woke up pretty damn fast. My rational side (yes, believe it or not, I *DO* have one - regardless of how small or minute it may be) figured that something had fallen and knocked into the piggies therefore triggering their talking, but my irrational side quickly countered that with a reminder that the odds of all 3 piggies noses getting pushed at the same time was pretty slim. I reached over the edge of the couch and felt nothing - except for the shelf on which the piggies sat. I jumped up, heart-racing (seriously, I'm surprised I didn't have a heart attack. Imagine that obituary: Here lies "insert my name here", who met her untimely demise rescuing the world from killer pink, purple and green Teacup piggies), and I groped around on the shelf. I found the piggies, all sitting menacingly side by side, still chattering away. NOTHING touching them or causing their noses to activate. SO . . . I did what any other sane and sound person would do: I hauled ass up the stairs, slammed the door to the basement shut and ran up to my bed. I did not sleep for the rest of the night (it was in fact, almost 5:00am, so only about 1/2 an hour earlier than I have been waking anyway); in fact I laid in bed waiting for any sign of those piggies starting to make their way up the stairs for god knows what . . .

And they didn't. They're SO damn lucky they didn't; I would have shit myself silly made bacon out of their arses if they had.

By 6:30 I had to pee so bad, I had to get out of bed, so I ran to the bathroom, did my business, and then put my ear to the heating vent to see if I could hear any noise coming from the basement and was franticaly trying to figure out what to do pulled myself together and reminded myself that I was just being silly about it all and that there was a completely logical reason for that happening. Everything was silent . . . almost TOO quiet. I stealthily crept down the stairs to the main floor, and sat on the couch there completely paralyzed while keeping a close eye on the door to the basement and barely breathing doing everyday, normal things because I'm not a chicken shit.

Finally I mustered up the courage to go and check things out "down there" (the basement you dirty birdies, the basement . . . get your head out of the gutter). The reality is, I couldn't possibly allow one of my kids to go down there first - definitely not - that would be like setting them up to be the sacrificial child or something, and that my friends could be construed as poor parenting. I went to the door, and after one more quick listen, I opened it and crept down. By now it was daylight and I was able to see clearly. The piggies were all still sitting on the shelf looking innocent and cute. With trembling hands (ONLY because I was cold - that's my story and I'm sticking to it), I reach out and push the nose of each piggie and they start chattering away.

I have NO idea how or why they were set off the other night, but I can assure you, I was NOT dreaming. This whole situation reminded me of this electronic ride-on toy that terrorized me my kids had years ago. It had all sorts of buttons that the kid could push, including one button that made it pleasantly sing "Patty-cake". It was out in our backyard (where it had been all along) and one night it started singing Patty-Cake over and over, then it would stop and then start again. It did this every night for several, and eventually it took on that demonic and slow voice. There was NOTHING pushing buttons on it. And it ONLY happened at night. Creepy? Indeed. I STILL choose to believe that it was the raccoons messing with me. We got rid of that toy - took it straight to the dump!!

Maybe . . . just maybe it's coming back to haunt me?! Revenge of the Patty-Cake bike . . .

What caused the piggies to talk? I don't know. Maybe toys DO have lives - like in Toy Story and I happened to catch them red-handed, but I can assure you that I did NOT fall asleep on the couch last night, and I can assure you that those damn piggies will NOT make their way up into any bedrooms. If the toys in our house go all Toy Story - great - but I'd prefer they do it in secret. At this point, I am wishing it had been blood-sucking, jugular attacking mice - I could rationalize that all a little easier.

That said, does anyone want some cute little Teacup Piggies for their little girl? I happen to know where you can find some for cheap!!