It's late at night.
I open my bedroom door, with the intention of letting the dogs out again,
since they were pansies and didn't want to go out in the rain earlier.
As I step into the hall,
I see light shining from under my daughter's door,
and mere seconds later, the snick of the lamp switch being turned off.
Knowing this was not mere coincidence,
I lurk quietly in front of my door,
my eyes glued to where the light had just been shining moments before.
I was certain that in a minute or two, the light would turn back on.
You know those sneaky teens.
A minute passes, then two.
Just as I am beginning to think I called her wrong,
I hear a voice.
She's talking to someone in the dark.
Dammit! I think to myself.
She's talking on her cell phone. It's too late and she knows better.
The talking continues, her voice rising and falling.
Quickly and decisively, I stride up to her door and push it open.
"Who are you talking to?" I ask roughly, as my eyes seek the guilty glow of the cell phone.
Startled, she answers quickly: "God."
And so she was.
I just snuck up and busted my daughter.. who was praying.
Embarrassed, I mutter a "Don't let me interrupt. Good night, Kate."
as I turn back and close the door behind me.
I know a whole lot less than I think I do, sometimes.