Latest sleepwalking incident (but not by me)
A few minutes ago while I was working on a longer post for this blog, my 10-year-old daughter suddenly appeared behind me, giving me a start.
“What are you doing up?” I said.
“I had to turn off the fan in my room because it was getting too hot for me.”
I noted two things: 1) this doesn’t make sense; and 2) she had a slightly confused look about the eyes. Then she added, “Plus, I had to put the… um… foam thing… on the counter.”
“I think you’re sleepwalking,” I said.
She looked at me, spun around and went back upstairs. I followed her to make sure she wound up in bed and found her there almost instantly. She must have run. On the way back to my office, I took note that there was no, um, foam thing on the kitchen counter.
My family has been having fun encounters like this for decades, from my grandparents to my parents to myself and my siblings and perhaps back to the start of our bloodline for all I know. All three of my kids are carrying on the tradition. As far as genetic curses go, I guess it beats sickle-cell anemia.