Fear Factor

Yesterday while I was reading Harry Potter, Gavin was upstairs taking a nap. I was listening to him on the monitor and could hear the rhythmic hum of his swing (shame on me for letting him sleep in a swing). I was reading a particularly intense and scary part of the book when the swing upstairs stopped and I started hearing noises in the monitor. It sounded like Gavin was waking up but I was already tense from the book and I was sure that someone was up there ... why else had the swing stopped? So with much fear, but a drive to protect my child I grabbed a huge chef's knife and headed up stairs. As I walked up I was shaking with fear and opened the door to his room to find ... Gavin smiling up at me in glee. The battery was dead on the swing. I felt embarrassed about my knife and was glad that Gavin is not old enough to realize his mother is a lunatic. I think maybe I shouldn't read Harry Potter when I home alone!