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Adams: ‘Was it the teddy bear?’

Posted: August 2, 2017 - 1:13am

Those of you who read last week's column are aware an alarming teddy bear incident recently occurred at my house, where teddy bears have been long stashed away by my children who were not home at the time of the occurrence. Each child, however, was thoroughly questioned as to his or her relationship with the teddy bear, to no avail.

Another suspect event has gone down since. Thursday, I was talking on the phone with my 19-year-old son while working in my office downstairs at the rear of our house. That's when it happened. Someone fell down our stairs, hard, with several bone crushing thuds.

Every muscle in my body froze. I called out the name of my 18-year-old son. My voice quavered and trailed off as I remembered he was not at home.

I whispered into the phone, "I think someone is in our house."

"Why?" asked my 19-year-old son.

"Because someone just fell down the stairs."

"Are we being robbed? You think someone is robbing us and fell down the stairs?" he asked.

"I don't know what he's doing, but he fell down the stairs. And now he's being really, really quiet." I sat just as quiet for at least a minute. The intruder was slow to get up and come get me, and this lack of motivation confused me.

I stood up from my desk and retreated out the backdoor, giving my son play-by-play of my movements. I rounded the side of our house and headed to the front yard, where I stopped to describe the scene into the phone. To recap, nothing was out of the ordinary. I next walked onto the front porch and peered into the windows, expecting to see a body slumped at the bottom of the stairs or an injured soul skulking through the living room.

"I don't see anyone," I reported. My son suggested that maybe our dog was in the house and had made the noise. She trotted up behind me, refuting that theory.

To demonstrate my courage, I hung up with my son then sat down on our front porch glider to think about my next move. Fear of the unknown and frustration that I was outside looking in instead of inside doing my chores battled in my brain.

Scanning the porch for inspiration, I spotted a grilling fork abandoned there by my husband. Grabbing it up and calling the dog, I phoned my son again.

My plan amused him, but he agreed to remain on the line with me while I went back in to confront my aggressor who rudely ruined my daily routine.

It took real coaxing to get the dog to enter the backdoor with me. Her behavior caused me to waver. But I just felt like if the bad guy was going to come in my house, fall down my stairs and menace me with silence, he ought to have the decency to come on out and get me in a timely fashion.

There is an etiquette even to this. So I took the stairs one at a time, light on my toes, holding the sharp ends of the grilling fork forward in self-defense and nervously muttering into the phone.

Reaching the landing of the first flight, I discovered that a large picture had flung off the wall and forcefully tumbled down the steps, where it splintered on the landing. There was no body to be found.

My son, from the safety of distance, whispered into the phone, "Do you think it was the teddy bear?"

 

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