The smooth sound of metal skimming flesh.
Promises. After a long, hard week.
Looking at each other, across the ledge of the tub.
Because she's sexy, in the water with a wine glass in her hand.
Because he's sexy, so concentrated, right before bed, with the razor, back and forth.
BONK BONK BONK... "MOMMAY!"
With a sideways glance at each other... barely noticeable in the shadows of flickering flame.
A razor, on legs, looking back and forth in the candle light.
BONK! BONK! BONK! "Mommay! Dadday! Can't find my binky!!!"
Suddenly the shot cuts, twice, eyes and eyes looking at each other, the light suddenly transforms into oh-so-economical compact florescent with a little bit of alarm as the doorknob across the hall turns, and a door opens.
The laugh track pauses, for effect...
"Daddy! Wha you doing?!?"
After what must've been the most pregnant pause in history, I was actually glad to say, and in all honesty, "daddy's just helping mommy shave her legs!" (no, really, I only heard the exclamation point in my head. I hope!)
"Daddy! I can' find my binky! I need help!"
Which is when the stage lights dropped off and the flourescents that knocked all the romance on its ass came up to full strength. What was a soap opera's near-climax suddenly became mom and dad getting ready for bed. With soap. And with a sideways glance, to be honest with more than a little bit of giggling...
"Okay, Olivia, daddy will help."
"Daddy! I think binky went that way!" Trott, trott, trott, back into her room.
The trick is not timing it. The trick is remembering it.
Because we'll be sure not to wake her up tomorrow night...