THIEF Would it be possible to check my lines, thanks, regards

THIEF
After dinner, my father collapsed on the bed to relax and soon fell asleep. My mother crouched on a cushion to repair my ripped socks. I settled myself down with - I remember it so well- playing with my toys for two or three hours when we heard the sounds of steps on the floor up. I don't remember what time it was, but there was someone upstairs wandering from one room to the other again. My mother gently nudged my father and quietly point out upstairs with her index finger. I felt creeping upon me, by slow yet certain degrees of this dreadful yet impressive scenery.
“Did you hear what I heard?” she pointed.
“Yes, I did,” answered my father, “I believe we have a thief upstairs,” he concluded.
Footsteps were barely audible and they moved from room to room, thoroughly someone was upstairs. His hands reached his holster, grabbed it, and took a short barreled colt revolver out of it. It was the only weapon and of value at home he thought. He swung the cylinder open and spun it. All chambers were loaded. He pointed us to be quiet and stay calm here in this room. “No I’ll go with you,” said my mother in a protest. She took the fire shovel in one hand and the bread knife in the other and followed him. I was just behind them of course. He opened the door, we got out, I was the last one in the file, so I closed it behind me very silently. Then he crept to the stairway and listened again. There was no sound. We waited for a while, and then we heard the footsteps again. My father found his way to the wooden stairway which winding up through the right hand side of the house in the dark as quietly as he could, keeping close to the wall on the left hand side, where he hoped the treads would creak as little as possible. Every two or three steps he paused and listened again, but we heard nothing. On the landing, we saw nothing but darkness.