This and That....

One evening, when Terd and I were first married, I brought home a snickers bar that someone had given me at work. I was feeling all selfless and excited to give it to Terd... but my hopes were dashed when he responded, "meh, I don't really like snickers that much." Oh really fool? You don't like snickers?! I tossed it on our nightstand in disgust and punished him for the rest of the night for not appreciating me enough.

You can imagine my surprise when that night, in the middle of the night, I was awakened by the sound of rustling wrappers. I looked up to see Terd sitting in the v-sit and reach position next to me in bed, the snickers clasped between his hands like a hamster with a sunflower seed. The wrapper was peeled back, banana style, just enough to reveal half of the bar. Ah ha! I sat up, armed with ridicule, when the light of the moon fell on his face and I realized, much to my surprise, his eyes were still slammed shut. He was asleep. He was asleep, and eating my candy bar.

I sat there in wonder, watching my little heffer of a husband gripping his wee little candy bar, in his wee little hands, taking bite after bite, crunching away until the very last bit of chocolaty goodness disappeared. I started laughing. He was undisturbed. He tossed the wrapper off the side of the bed and snuggled back in. Really? Not even a drink to wash it down? I laid down next to him and stared in disbelief as he puffed peanut breath on my face, snoozing away peacefully.

The next morning when I recounted our midnight rendezvous, Sam was skeptical and completely oblivious. I referenced the empty wrapper on the floor next to our bed as evidence. He was shocked. We laughed for a long time. And then turned to the internet for a little self-diagnosis and googled, "sleep eaters." Turns out it's a real, somewhat disturbing, disorder that wasn't nearly as amusing as my hubby and his candy bar. We're talking people who fire up the grill and stuff in the middle of the night in their sleep and burn down their houses and crap like that. Talk about a buzz kill.

At any rate, I still find occasional evidence of midnight dining at our house that Sam claims to have no recollection of. Generally if we have left over dessert. Hmmm.

Creepy.