Big's reprieve

"Bii-Ig?" I said in that sing-songy way that makes people want to punch me.

"Mr. Big?" Silence.

"BIG."

Then I hear "ka-thunk, ka-thunk, ka-thunk." And it's not Big falling down the stairs. It's my high-heel shoe from the wedding I was just in -- the one I was planning on wearing twice more because it fits the requirements for weddings two and three -- falling down the stairs ahead of the dog. Then came the dog around the corner on the landing, where he sat with his tail between his legs and his ears drooped down.

"BIG." I made a mean man-growl from the bottom of the stairs.

Then I looked at the clock -- 8:45. "Never mind. Let's go to bed." And suddenly, I was 8, apparently, as my bed time moved up. Big, on the other hand, will live to see 8. Probably. As long as the other shoe doesn't drop. Get it ... Never mind. It's almost 8:45; I can go to bed soon.