crickets

Little Jay, aka Baby Jay

Tonight, late in the evening, I drove home with the windows open, sweet August darkness filling the air.

Then I let myself into this quiet house, kissed a few sleeping kids, and one sleeping man, and took a hot bath.

As I sat in the tub, rinsing my arms and shoulders with hot water, I noticed crickets chirping in the dark, outside the open bathroom window.

Aaaaaah. Oh summer, you sweet thing.

Then I thought about a single cricket from a long time ago, back when Little Jay was a big baby.

He was in a demanding phase, or having a crabby day, I can't remember, but he'd fallen asleep and was in bed in the room that used to be his, but now is Tim's.

Then a single cricket started chirping in there by my baby's nap.

No.

No, no, no, no.

On my hands and knees I searched the room, trying to be very quiet, lest I wake that child.

Finally I found the bug, far back under a dresser, where I could not reach the cricket without moving furniture and chance waking dear, sweet, cranky Baby Jay.

In a minute, I had bright idea and fetched the spray bottle for hair from the bathroom.

(We have this bottle full of water and a liberal squeeze of conditioner that's used for flattening tufts and untangling snarls.)

Feeling very stealth, I turned the spray tip from a wide spray to a narrow stream, and then crouched down and shot that cricket.

"You will NOT wake up my baby."

There was quiet for ten full minutes.

Then it dried off and started up again.

I crawled in there and shot it with the hair bottle every ten minutes for two hours, while the boy slept.

I got a lot done--and my baby got a good nap.

Okay, desperation. This would be it.

He's nineteen now, and sleeps nicely now to the tune of pretty much any racket, including crickets.

Us, 1993, back when he was smaller than me.

Oh, and as always, August is still gorgeous. love, Val