Any noise, and you're toast, thought Special Agent John Whittaker as he eyed the doorknob. His previous surveillance of the room had told him the doorknob had a tendency to click if the opener didn't push down with exquisite care while turning the knob. In and out. Quick and easy. Turning the knob with a precision usually reserved for brain surgeons, he eased into the room with stealth that would have made a hunting cheetah weep.
There – he was in. Scanning the room in the near-darkness, he located the object of his quest on a shelf on the opposite wall. Watch your step. They lull you into a false sense of security. One step. Over the squeaky floorboard.
Oh, NO. What is that under my foot? He carefully bent down to examine the object. It was sharp, but not sharp enough to pierce the sound-muffling footwear he'd donned for this mission. There's another…and another…oh boy, this is going to take some patience. Feeling his way with his toes, he crept across the floor to the shelf.
Now to obtain the documents. Of course, there were additional documents above the ones he needed. He toyed with the idea of just taking all of them to the person who'd sent him on this dangerous mission and letting them sort the whole thing out, but then he realized the nature of the papers on top. I'm not letting them see THOSE. There's no telling what harm might come of that. He took his time, easing the target documents out from underneath the top ones. Almost there…gotcha. Suddenly, he heard voices beyond the door. No, no, no…I told you I'd get them for you! You'll jeopardize the whole mission!
The next sound relieved his fears. His partner was distracting them, leading them away from the danger zone. Thank goodness. That would have been a disaster. Creeping back across the booby-trapped floor, he once again stepped over the squeaky floorboard, then closed the door silently behind him. Nice work, if I do say so myself. He rounded the corner only to find himself face to face with the person who'd initiated the mission.
"Daddy, what took you so long?" asked Jana, her head tilted to one side. He knelt down beside her.
"I had to be extra super careful so I wouldn't wake up Jason. Here you go." He handed her the battered copy of Goodnight, Moon.
"Thanks, Dad! We can't have bedtime without it."
"Here, Jana, I'll read it to you." Jenny took the book and led her daughter to the couch. "Come sit here."
A few hours later, Jenny sat in bed beside Whit as he glanced over drafts of encyclopedia articles. "Nice job getting through Jason's room. I told Jana we could read a different story, but no, it had to be Goodnight, Moon."
"If it helps her get to sleep easily, I'd say it's worth it! I had to pull it out from underneath that puppy book she loves – if she'd seen that, we would have had to read her the whole thing!"
"All fifty pages of it, complete with the names and histories of every single dog? Good work!" She rolled over to turn off her lamp. "Good night, John."
"Good night, Jenny." Whit laid the papers on his nightstand and turned off his light.
"John?"
"Yes, dear?"
"Did you realize you were humming the theme from North by Northwest?"
Author's note: This story was inspired by a trip into my toddler's room during naptime. I successfully retrieved a book, a bag of yarn, knitting needles, a bag of Polyfill, and a bag of safety eyes, all without waking the baby. I have never felt more like a ninja.