A plea

Dear blankets,

While I love that you keep 30 toes warm, I hate that you fall off in the night. I hate even more that 30 toes then get cold and owners of those toes cry out "Put my blanket on!" And then I have to get out from under my warm blanket (which incidentally does not fall off - please take some lessons) and go put 3 blankets back on 30 toes. Come on, blankets, do your job, for crying out loud! I am tired!

Thank you in advance,
A

Shhhhhhhhhhhhh.

You know that expression "peace and quiet"? I don't get it. I don't get the expression and I don't get "peace and quiet". There are moments when there is peace. But even peaceful moments here aren't quiet. Let's say, I need everyone to stay downstairs while I cook dinner. I may turn on Dora the Explorer. And everyone may sit still, but 3 minutes into the episode 3 soon-to-be-3 years olds are shouting, "Swiper, no swiping!" at the TV. So peace, but no quiet. Get it?

The other evening, R took the Salad downstairs after dinner, while I cleaned up the kitchen. I was so caught up in loading the dishwasher, I barely noticed as S quietly plodded up the stairs and plopped herself down at the kitchen table. She knelt on a chair and hunched over a Color Wonders coloring book that she had brought up with her. I watched her for a few minutes. My first inclination was to take advantage of the time I had with only one ingredient and strike up a conversation, but I caught myself. It was so quiet in the room, I could hear her marker scribbling on the paper. She looked intent on turning Tinkerbell pink. She looked calm. S had plodded up those steps looking for some peace.

And quiet.