Today when I came home, there was a man in my daughter's bed.

So, we walked in the (unlocked) front door of my home after a blissful trip to the library and I walked down the hall to dump a load of books, purses, shoes, puzzles, trash from the car, and stuffed animals on my bed. And as I was walking, I glanced over the top of my armload of junk and into my daughter's room.

And this is what I saw:

WHAT THE...?!?

The armload of stuff went flying, a blood-curdling scream was torn from my throat, and 2 startled children were dragged out of the house before they had time to react.

THERE WAS A PERSON IN MY DAUGHTER'S BED!!
(SEE?!?!!)
I had just talked to Luke on the phone, so I knew it wasn't him.
Both girls were present and accounted for.
The pillow (as you can see) was not the culprit.
We do not own enough blankets to make a full-sized blanket person.
And my kids are certainly not to that stage yet.

I stood outside for a second deciding about the whole flight or fight dilemma when I decided I better call the police.
But there was one problem:
My phone was in that purse that was in the pile of junk that was right outside the room where a rapist was sleeping in my daughter's bed.

By this point, my heart rate had lowered a few notches and was somewhere around "Threat Level Red" when I talked myself into going back into the house.

No way was I about to call the police on a stuffed animal.

As I snuck back into my own house, I paused just outside the door to get one more look at the intruder. I watched for a second, realized it was not breathing, moving, or making a sound. And then I realized unless this psycho was a midget, it sure wasn't a full grown adult.
So, I mustered up the courage and timidly pulled back the blanket, and low and behold...



The murder was...







A Care Bear.
Surprise Bear, to be exact.



Oh, the irony.

I'm just glad I didn't call the cops.