Eight-year-old Tink was under the weather most of this past weekend (a polite way of saying she was yakkin' all over the place, including my parent's house where she was a guest Saturday night. Sorry, mom and dad - I'll make it up to you. How bout next weekend?)
She's much better now, though last night she complained again about her tummy hurting. Probably nothing, she went on to bed around 9pm.
Later, pushing 11pm after everyone else is in bed and I'm at the computer, listening to the UT/Bama basketball game on the radio, I heard voices. Or more accurately, a voice. Coming from downstairs.
Now, a quick bit about the layout of our house. The computer desk is on the landing at the top of the stairs. I can come to the top of the stairs, look down and see the whole living room (there's a vaulted ceiling so everything's very open-air). A bridge/hallway that's also open-air to the vaulted ceiling, goes from the landing, over the living room to Tink's room. Brainyboy's room is downstairs in another part of the house.
Did I mention it was storming?
So I get up, wondering who in the world is talking below in a high-pitched voice... I come to the bridge, look over and there's Tink sitting on the couch watching the UT game with a very blank expression. Ever have one of those moments where you feel like you should literally rub your eyes in disbelief and shake your head (eh-eh-eh-eh-eh!) like in cartoons? For her to get downstairs, she would've had to come down the bridge, walk past me at the computer and then down the steps to the living room. All out in the open.
Kid's so light that barefoot she didn't make a sound and I never saw her out of the corner of my eye so intent was I on my, er, my spreadsheet. Ok, my web surfing. Ok, my World of Warcraft. But that's not important.
I ask her, a bit incredulously, why she's out of bed and if she's ok. She gazes up at me, smiling faintly. Ok, creepy (Have I ever told you how much she resembles little Heather O'Rourke from Poltergeist - "They're here!". I need to film her doing that sometime, it would creep you out, too). I go downstairs, pick her up and carry her back up to her room. I ask her once again if she feels ok, and she says, brightly, "yep!". I lay her in her bed and kiss her goodnight - she gives me a kiss too and settles right back to sleep.
She didn't remember a bit about it this morning.
Creepy dang sleepwalkin' kids.
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