It was during one of these evening rituals that I was awakened to find myself in the middle of a low budget horror movie. A sound of crashing and yelling echoed through the room and I immediately went into protective mama bear mode. After peaking my head out from under the crib, I gathered the strength to enter the hallway and face whatever was at the source of this carnage. I wasn't prepared for what I was about to find. After all, part of the reason other than chocolate that I agreed to move to this country was its nearly non-existent crime rate. People just don't get murdered here (although they may die of boredom). I wasn't ready to discover that my peaceful world had been shattered! But nevertheless, I opened the nursery door....and then I found him---my husband and his bloodied fist.
After questioning him extensively, I learned that he too was awakened in a state of fear to find a height-challenged intruder standing in the bedroom doorway. Being the rational man that I love, he questioned the night prowler in a very assertive tone. "Tell me who you are," he demanded three times. When the intruder still would not answer (quite rude for being asked more than once), Matt jumped from the bed and landed a firm fist right to that burglar's face. Not being able to withstand the strength of my ninja husband's blow, our trespasser crashed to the ground in obvious defeat.
Pretty freakin' awesome story, don't ya think---until I tell you that my husband sucker punched a fan.
|I am sure you can understand the confusion|