Over the past few nights I have been hearing some chirping outside our front door. Nothing terribly annoying, just your average crickets singing the sun to sleep. Sunday morning comes and everything changes. It’s 6am and the chirping is piercing. Its ridiculously loud and annoying and its six in the freaking morning. In case you can’t tell, I am so not a morning person.
My husband jumps out of bed to find the stupid thing. I am commanding “Kill it! Did you find it? When you do, KILL IT!” Really, I hate the mornings.
And then, it stops. We climb back into bed, only for it to start again. This goes on until we finally get up to ready ourselves for church.
Sunday evening, chirp, chirp, chirp. We pull apart our room searching for the darn thing. Silence. Clearly the cricket is afraid of his death.
Monday morning my husband says, “I found the cricket. I didn’t kill it, I just chucked it really far outside so it wouldn’t come back in.”
The moral of the story, there really isn’t one. Just a discovery that my husband is slightly more merciful than me. He won’t kill it, just hurt it real bad.
Aww...Matt's a softie. :)
ReplyDeleteI hear a Sacrament Meeting talk in there somewhere .... and yes, I laughed. Out loud. The Hub even noticed I was laughing. (He was sitting at the breakfast table, licking his yogurt!)
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