The other night, Kyle and I discovered another Parental Superpower. We already know that Mom has Eyes in the Back of her Head, and Dad can Read Minds (especially mischievious little boy minds). And then there's The Voice. The Voice that causes even the most rogue of toddlers to stop dead in their tracks. It is only possible in times of imminent danger and saved our oldest in a parking lot once.
The extent of this Superpower had not been fully tested until the other night. It had already been one of those nights. Samuel had been fussy off and on from midnight to 1:30am. By the time Joel was standing bedside at 2am, we were already sleep deprived zombies. I told him 3 or 4 times to go back to bed, but there he stood with his fuzzy blanket over his right shoulder and his left thumb securely vacuumed into his mouth. I must've dosed off, but then...
There is a noise. A harrowing noise that the body makes as the sphincter between the stomach and the esophogus opens and vomit rises through the throat forcing air out of the mouth. It is such a distinct sound that it can raise Zombie Mommy and Corpse Daddy from deep sleep to ready-for-battle in a millisecond.
Ask me how I know.
I call this Superpower: Bat Ears.
In all fairness, this isn't a new superpower. I've used Bat Ears before. It is most likely the same Parental Superpower that helps me distinguish one squeaky bed or door from another and to hear when the refridgerator door has been penetrated. It allows me to know the answer to the question, "did you wash your hands and flush the potty?" before I ask. I can hear cabinets open and stuffed animals fall. I would most certainly win Name that Sound if it was my family making noise in my house. However, I did not know the extent of the Bat Ear superpower and that it works even in my sleep.
The other night, my Bat Ears roused me from deep sleep to cupped hands, but they did not prepare me for what came next.
To be continued...