The Q-View

Even though her Uncle Matt wasn’t home at the time, Michaela thought it would be a good idea for the two of us to hide from him in the small walk-in closet in the front bedroom. 

Under a blanket. 

On a warm, humid day in late April.

This is a game we had played before, and after a few minutes, Uncle Matt would come upstairs, and after an elaborate, narrated out-loud search, would “find” us and the game would end.

Not today.

Mickey ordered me into the closet and under the blanket, which had to be over our heads. As we tried to maneuver, she hit me twice in the cheek with her flashlight, but we eventually got settled in the dark closet. And waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Meanwhile, I was approaching dehydration, and sweat was pooling on my face. I started hinting that maybe we should go check on Cindy, who was entertaining her son, daughter-in-law, and two-month-old grandchild downstairs. 

“No, Unca Matt might be there,” Mickey whispered.

A few minutes later, I surreptitiously knocked on the closet door. Mickey held her breath. I knocked again.

“Maybe we should see who it is,” I suggested.

“We have to hide from Unca Matt,” she argued.

“I wonder what Peppa Pig is doing?” I mused a couple of minutes later. She didn’t take the bait to go watch one of her favorite shows, which I could still hear on the TV downstairs.

I tried the knocking thing a few minutes later, but waited a minute or two before suggesting we check the hallway.

“Okay,” Mickey said.

Thank God, I thought.

A refreshing breeze of cooler air hit me as soon as I peeled the blanket off and opened the door.

Mickey tiptoed to the top of the steps and sat down where we could see Cindy holding Noah. 

“I hope nobody finds us in the closet,” I stage whispered.

“Let’s go back,” Mickey ordered.

Back to the closet; back on the floor; back under the blanket. Only one flashlight to the face this time. Sweating again.

Cindy had taken the hint and came up a few minutes later and knocked on the door.

“Shhh,” I said.

Mickey held her breath. 

Cindy knocked again.

“Is it Unca Matt?”

“I don’t know. We better look.”

“No. We’re hiding.”

Knock. Knock.

“Nobody is here,” Mickey said.

“Okay. I guess I’ll look downstairs.”

“That was close,” I said to Mickey. “Maybe we should go tell Cindy we’re looking for Uncle Matt, and she can warn us.”

“No.”

A few minutes later, I suggested that we get something to drink.

“No.”

I took out my phone and checked the Google doorbell camera. Miracle of miracles, Matt was just coming up the driveway. I showed Mickey and prayed that Cindy would tip Matt off and send him upstairs. 

Nope.

I could hear them all talking downstairs. I took the blanket off me.

“Put the blanket on,” Mickey ordered. 

“I’m going to check to see if he’s coming,” I said.

Mickey joined me at the top of the steps.

“We’re hiding,” she yelled and ran back to the closet.

I signalled Matt to get up here!

Mickey and I got settled under the blanket again, and Matt, mercifully, came upstairs and did an audible search of the room and finally “found” us.

Mickey told him to go away since we were hiding from him and ordered me to be quiet.

But a minute later, she relented, and we followed Uncle Matt downstairs.

I celebrated liberation with a large glass of iced tea.