So, Friday morning, I'm gathering up all the last minute things that I need to gather so that Heather and I can head down for our Cedar City extravaganza. As I was gathering, I unplugged the baby monitor (the transmitter) in Heather's room, and put it in the diaper bag. I then proceeded to get Heather dressed for the day. Suddenly, as I'm looking at little contented Heather lying there on the changing table, I hear a baby cry. Talk about confusing. I give Heather a double take, trying to figure out how she's crying without opening her mouth, and while smiling. It makes no sense whatsoever.
(Incidentally, did you notice that I used the word (or a derivative of the word) "gather" three times in the preceding paragraph? That's got to be some kind of record.)
Come to find out, the baby monitor (receiver) was still on downstairs, and since our transmitter was turned off (something that hasn't happened in the last two months), it was (I'm assuming)
receiving the transmissions of the baby monitor belonging to the couple who live two doors down from us. They have an 18-month old you see. An 18-month old who apparently has only recently begun sleeping through the night. I try not to to think about that so much.
Anyway, since yesterday morning, I've been wracking my brain, trying to remember what things I may have said or sung in Heather's room with that monitor on. We live in a townhome community, and so baby monitors (and babies) are a fairly common commodity. I wonder if any of our neighbors have heard me singing to Heather, or telling her stories (some of them kind of embarrassing ones from our family history). I wonder if they've heard me use the monitor as kind of a walkie-talkie to send one-way messages to Eric downstairs. Who knows? I haven't noticed anyone giving me strange looks as I take out the garbage though, so we might be in the clear.
One things for certain though, that monitor is going to be turned off a little more frequently now.