I'm flattered...but I have to go to bed

Last night I was singing and playing guitar in our spare bedroom. I was just finishing up with one of the last songs I was planning on doing when I glanced toward the window. A face was pressed up against the glass, leering at me from outside.

My brain momentarily short-circuited as I tried to process what I was seeing. Whatisthat?!?!?NO!!WHOisthat?!Ishegoingtomurderme???Isthisajoke?!NO!!It'sreal!!NO!!It'sacartoon?No, wait, it's a kid. Specifically, it was our 3-year-old neighbor. One side of our house has no fence, just a little strip of grass and some windows that face our neighbor's garage. Unbeknownst to me (but beknownst to his mother, who was watching from their driveway), he had sidled up to the window to watch, listen, and dance. And he was not pleased that I'd stopped playing.

He pressed in closer and frowned. I waved and then played a few more songs. He smiled and danced some more. Ok, kid, it's 8:30 and you (read: I) have to go to bed. Sarah and I turned off the lights and went into the other room to get ready for bed. He banged on the windows outside our bedroom in protest.

It's official. I have a fan.