Wednesday, February 4, 2009

A cautionary tale

There's something about the stillness of night ... a child taps my shoulder in the darkness and stands hesitantly at my bedside. I scoot Erin over to make room for one more. She climbs into my bed with anxious whispers.

"Tell me in the morning," I whisper back. Another nightmare? I don't want to wake up any more than I have. I cover her up and we're all snug.

But soon after that the stillness is broken by distressing coughs. The space next to me is empty and Lanie is gone. I follow the sound, knowing too well what it means, all hope drained from my mind.

"Get to the bathroom, quick!" I encourage and point her down the hall.

If you listen closely, in any home with white carpet, you'll hear the mesmerizing siren song. She sings so softly and soothingly that you are compelled to stand on her--she's cloaked in pure cream whose melody entices and beckons to the sick, "Wait. Wait."

But it's a trick, you see, and young hearts are often deceived by her beauty and her gentle calls, "Stay. Stay." Until it's too late. The moment of no second chances, when tummies that lurch and roll like angry seas crash and spill the unnatural pink color of Shaggy's Cool Punch yogurt squirters at their feet, leaving mothers to hear not the siren's seductive call, but her hard victory cry.

Armed with paper towels, a sponge and Resolve, I take to this wicked temptress. I attack her with spray, and then--wait five minutes, gently blot. But she's claimed another victim. Beware, parents, of Scooby Doo marketing ploys for indigestible pink yogurt food products, and listen in your homes. You'll hear that voice one night too, breaking the still of your slumber and luring your children from their beds. Don't be deceived. Prepare young souls with buckets and paper towels. And arm yourselves with steely Resolve.


Karen said...

Just now, reading this, I made the final decision for flooring in the new house. I am sticking with hardwood! Industrial, stain proof and only cold if you don't wear slippers.

Courtney said...

Yeah, I'm with you! I'm trying to figure out how to bribe the lung dr to write a prescription for hardwood floors!