It's the kind of scream that no father ever wants to hear. It's loud and brutal as I guess every scream is at 2 am. Especially the ones that come from your daughters bedroom and she's supposed to be asleep.
I am quite proud about how quickly I was up and out of bed. Quick like a cat. Or better yet: a ninja cat. A ninja cat whose slightly overweight and has a bald spot that may be mange or just genetics (thanks mom!) But the point is, I am a quick fat man with a fine tuned ear for my daughter's distress signals.
Now every father has had images in his head from the moment he became a father. What would he do if his child was in danger by some massive nutjob. In my case, I have actually come up with 2 plans for this scenario: Daughter being attacked in her room late at night.
The first one, if someone was in there trying to hurt her, I would bust through the door and immediately get into a 3 point stance from my playing days. I would do a perfect form tackle while screaming my war cry. The momentum from this uber awesome tackle would send us very Diehard-like through the second floor window in my daughters room. We would fall 2 stories and the intruder would be killed while I would roll deftly off him. Of course my weight would smush him like a bug while I would only receive a sprained ankle because that is all heroes ever get, a sprained ankle. The perp on the other hand would get a death certificate where the cause of death would be listed as "fat bastard."
The second scenario, which I feel is equally as effective, is that I would bust into the room and give the intruder a Clint Eastwood stare. Just long enough for him to realize that his days are numbered. Then I would spit because that is what you do after the Clint Eastwood stare. He would take a shot at me (in this scenario he has a gun) and I would do one of those cool Matrix dodges because like I said, quick like a ninja cat. I would then charge and he would pull out a knife having realized that a gun is useless against me. I would do a Bruce Lee Block, break his wrist so he drops the knife and then I would hoist him over my head like Drago. I would calmly and coldly walk to the top of the stairs and throw him over the railing. He would fall with a shocked look on his face as he was impaled by the many Barbies that always litter the bottom of the stairs. I would then say something witty and cool, like "Get out of my dream house" or "Elevators out of order." I don't know, I'm still working on that part.
Sure, I have a very active imagination. But I am a prepared father, covering all my bases. You don't want to know what I would do if you tried to stuff her into a van. Oh yes, there would be some van surfing going on. Teen Wolf rules.
Anyway, these scenarios were playing through my head as I ran down the hall to my daughter's room. She was still screaming. I'm coming baby doll. I bust into her room and realized immediately that something was not the same as in my scenarios. In my scenarios I was fully clothed. Sometimes I'm wearing pjs and sometimes I'm wearing camo gear with an ammunition belt drapped across my chest. However, in reality I'm not wearing any of these things. Because at night, I sleep in the buff. I love the freedom, what can I say. That's right, enjoying that mental picture are you? But when your daughter is screaming you don't have time to stop and put on your special pirate boxer shorts (because they make you feel swarthy). No, you drop what you are doing and get ready to rumble, even if it's naked.
So I didn't have any clothes on and it did pass through my head that this may be slightly embarrassing although probably more so for the intruder than with me. Hey, I'm comfortable with who I am. But I am adaptable. I would use this as a surprise attack and when he hesitates, I will be on him. Welcome to scenario number 3: Naked attack of surprised intruder.
I throw the light on and crouch ready to launch myself. Nothing. Nobody. Just my daughter sitting up in bed screaming her head off, slapping at the air. It takes me a minute to scan the room and then I nakedly walk to my daughter, grabbing a pillow on my way over to her bed.
It takes her a moment to calm down as I hug her and ask her what is wrong. Between sobs she is trying to tell me and Hossmom, who had the foresight to add a robe before coming into the room.
Bugs. There are bugs.
Where are the bugs, I ask. Everywhere, she tells me. I look and can find no bugs and I don't know how she would see them in the dark. I tell her it's ok and we put her back to bed. As soon as her eyes clothes she starts freaking out about bugs. Now I know what is going on, a nightmare.
I suppose bugs is a common phobia, Hossmom has been absolutely terrified of them since I've known her. I'm a little surprised though because until tonight Little Hoss has always helped me smash bugs. In fact, I've never known my daughter to be terrified which is why I suppose she is so good at jumping off the top of very high things.
In the end we take her into our bedroom, put on some boxers and we all go to asleep with every light on in the house to ward off any bugs. An hour later I'm still awake, the lights still blazing. I should be sleeping but I can't. Now scenario number 4 is forming in my mind. Pirate PJ's. Yup, with Pirate PJs I would whip ass.