There is a lull in the morning. A time that peace and quiet reigns over my house. The oldest two are off at school, two of my little boys are still sleeping, and The Baby is silently looking at books.
Silence.
This is MY time. I can read a book, poke around on the computer, or just sit and drink coffee while looking out the window.
And then Mr. Trouble comes down the stairs. He immediately wants food, says his tummy hurts and he MUST have food NOW. The Baby is excited to see his brothers finally waking up, and starts running around full of jibber-jabber. He runs by me as I’m getting Mr. Trouble his breakfast, and I catch a whiff of a dirty diaper. Mr. Trouble says he needs milk, his tummy is really, really, really hurting and he needs milk now. The milk and dirty diaper must wait a second, I hear a “tap-tap-tap” coming from upstairs. CamCam is up, and he needs to be let out of his room. I run upstairs to let him out, decide to pick him up so I can quickly get back downstairs. The pressure of my arm is just enough to send his full diaper over the edge. Yucky liquid starts running down my arm.
And so my morning has begun.
Goodbye peace, goodbye quiet.
We shall meet again 24 hours from now.
