My first offspring may have been an alien all along. There were signs…
One morning years ago I was coding on my old TI TravelMate laptop computer and set it down to take care of something else. I figured the thing was safe enough, perched on an ottoman in the living room and of no apparent interest to my crawling, slobbering infant.
I had forgotten that Bamm-Bamm was standing, and occasionally walking, at this point.
When I returned to the den just a few minutes later, I was shocked to see the laptop’s side-mounted trackball detached. And even worse than that:
Every major part had been removed and laid out on the ottoman in a very precise row.
Now, this was not an easy task. The guts were held in by a round retainer that one had to depress in order to twist on or off. This took some strength and a certain amount of dexterity. I occasionally had trouble with it.
I knew my wife wouldn’t do this. At the time she was allergic to computers (since cured by repeated exposure to eBay and MSN tabloid news). So at first I lectured my 5 year old stepson. Why did you take apart my trackball? But my wife assured me that he had been in his bedroom the entire time. So that left…
The drooling 10 month old perpetrator leaned against the ottoman’s companion chair on strong but precarious legs and grinned up at me. Flexing clamp-like but nimble hacker fingers. Absorbing me with those huge, studious, alien eyes.
And I once again knew fear.
excerpted from a planned book, Aliens Stole My Baby!
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