I'm enjoying quiet time these days like I never imagined. Bits and pieces of rest when the elements of our house align and nap times coincide. Animals and baby, completely asleep. These precious moments are as rare as they are short.
This is usually when someone knocks on the door, and bedlam ensues. The dogs begin their riot, barking furiously and aimlessly in all directions, ready to defend the baby against threats such as gift bearing neighbors or elderly couples on an evening stroll.
I scream at the dogs in a whisper that would make a librarian blush. But it’s of no use, the baby is awake, and he suddenly remembers that he really, really, wants to eat. He wants a boob in his mouth yesterday, and I run around trying to restore order, but it's no use, the moment is over.
I'm reminded of a childhood memory.