Ryan worked an overnight shift on Sunday night, to fill in for his missing and/or mortally wounded crew. Being unaccustomed to the night shift, he had a hard time sleeping on Sunday, and by 'hard time,' I mean he didn't, which resulted in an over-tired, goofy husband come Monday.
I left the room Monday evening to put in a load of laundry, and when I came back he was hovering over the kitchen sink, head cocked to the side, listening to the DRAIN.
"What are you doing?" I asked, amused.
"Babe. WHAT are you doing?" ...this time, amused and a bit annoyed.
His reply was a bit curt. "Shhhhh!! If you'd STOP TALKING, you'd hear it."
So, I did what any loving wife would do, and I leaned in next to him to listen for 'it.' Never mind I was stifling my laughter.
"Ryan. I can't hear a thing. You're just tired."
"No... I hear music. But it stopped."
Doing my best not to just roll my eyes and laugh at him, I decided I'd help him find "the music" and I crossed my fingers that it wasn't just in his head.
"Wait, there it is again!!" he observed.
I chose logic over, uh, whatever it was Ryan was doing, and started looking for musical toys that had been left on.
Without warning, he darted across the room.
"Is it the ICE CREAM MAN???" He was already half way out the door.
As he ran out the door, I found the music. It was coming from a small, blue seahorse wedged under the edge of the couch.
Definitely not the ice cream man. Which makes me wonder, if the ice cream man in his childhood neighborhood played lullabies, how did he ever drum up any business??