Dubious Talents [Philosophical Monday]

You know what I love? Dubious talents. I’m talking about those talents that one doesn’t work to cultivate, those talents that others don’t necessarily acknowledge as  talents, but when it comes right down to it, definitely are. I bring this up, because we had something confirmed on Saturday that we’ve been suspecting for awhile now: my daughter has inherited my most dubious talent.

A termite inspector that we had been warned would come, but whose pending visit we promptly forgot, rang our doorbell on Saturday. He only had to check for termites in three places: at the outside gate, someplace else that I now can’t recall, and in the attic.

“Wait, we have an attic?” I said.

“Yes, it’s going to be in a closet in one of the bedrooms,” he answered.

Well, we knew it couldn’t be the master b/c our closets are too thin. And my MIL’s closet was too small. The only place it could be was our daughter’s room, and we had just put her down for a nap 30 minutes ago.

“Could you come back some other time?” my husband asked.

The termite inspector who had been charged with searching for signs of termites in several of our complex’s townhouses that day looked pained.

But it occurred to me that this might not be an issue, because after months of the unexpected construction and sirens that comes with living in a bustling urban environment, I had become to suspect that my daughter, who has continued to be a good sleeper in our latest residence despite the noise pollution, might have inherited my most dubious talent.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve been able to sleep through anything. And I do mean anything. I got in trouble twice while at Summer College for not responding to two middle of the night fire drills or the accompanying knocks on the door. A junior high friend once invited me to a baptist revival and I fell asleep somewhere around the second hour, despite the choir, the organ, the band, and the folks catching the spirit in the aisles. An ex-boyfriend complained bitterly about how it took almost a half an hour to wake me up, so that I could drive him to the hospital when he woke up in the middle of the night with intense gastric pain. And though science says that mothers are supposed to wake up in an instant if their baby cries in the night, on more than one occasion when my daughter was still breast-feeding, I woke up to CH standing me above me with a hungry, squalling baby after having had to put quite some effort into shaking me awake.

But those are the rare occasions when my dubious talent has backfired on me. For most of my life, being able to sleep through just about anything has been a blessing. My husband snores when he gets sick — not an issue. Red-eye flight with a crying baby — I can sleep through that. I’ve been able to happily live more places and stay well-rested through crazier situations than others I know, because I’m just so good at getting my seven hours under any circumstance. Pretty much the only thing that wakes me up after I’ve fallen into a deep sleep are nightmares.

Well, on Saturday, we had to clear out Betty’s closet, so that a termite inspector could get to the attic that we never noticed lived above it. I had to turn on the closets bright light and accidentally set off two loud toys while piling everything in her closet into her room. The inspector tried to be as quiet as possible, but he had a ladder. Noise just couldn’t be avoided. However, Betty slept through it all. I was so proud of her.

And this got me to wondering about what dubious talents you all have. Is there something you can do naturally that others just can’t? Sound off in the comments.

featured image credit: KlaireLee