We should have locked the door.
But we didn’t.
We should have waited until we were sure he was asleep.
But we didn’t.
My tween walked right in on us, and I am not even sure he looked up. “Mom, my ear hurts…”
And that’s when my husband jumped off of me in a move so stunning he’s now considering applying for Cirque Du Soleil.
“What, baby?” I start grasping for my comforter. Where was that damn thing anyway? How did it end up on the floor? I was still trying to comprehend how he was standing in the doorway. I mean, we remembered to put the dog in his crate, how did we forget this?
“Are you guys okay?” His ear was suddenly the least of his problems. Which, I totally get. Me too.
“We’re fine.” My husband replied, a little out of breath, either from the sex or his newfound career as an acrobat, I am not super sure.
Somehow we managed to get under the covers. Looking like some sort of post-coital soap opera scene. Things were so unmistakable. Music playing, mood lighting, underwear strewn about.
“Just go… sit in the living room. I will be there in a few seconds.”
My son turned around, my husband leapt in a single bound toward the door. He really was quite graceful.
“Do you think he saw?” I ask, not really wanting an answer.
“No, I think he came down here blindfolded…” My husband was not nearly as amused as me.
I grabbed some yoga pants and a T-shirt. “I am just not going to say anything. I am pretty sure the best plan here is to feign complete ignorance.”
But, my son wasn’t having any of it. As I walked out in the living room to check on him, before I could even ask about his ear he responded, “Oh, nice to see you found your clothes.”
Sigh… at least he knows his parents love each other.
