During a momentary lull in our daily chaos, I urgently needed a telephone break with my sister. I was behind on the family gossip and then there was recent plot developments on a certain show we watch (which I will never admit in public) that required detailed analysis. We gabbed for maybe 3 or 4 minutes.
Then the lull passed. I suppose it was the 'calm before the storm' or something.
Kye began to hitch his way up my pant leg, grunting with effort. The noises drew Rascal away from Christmas of Enchantment, who decided now would be a good time for a snack. I hobbled over to the fridge with Kye still firmly attached to my calf and pulled out a yogurt - usually a safe choice.
Well it was the wrong thing this time, and Rascal started to wail. When he gets into full turbine-strength bellows, there's not much you can do to stop it even if you have the sheer luck of figuring out what, exactly, you did wrong.
So at this point, I asked Tantie to "hang on a sec" because not only was the ambient volume an issue, but I also couldn't keep the handset wedged under my chin with two squirming boys fighting for total lap domination.
Somewhere in the midst of all this wonderfulness, Tweenie came in asking if BFF could come over. She had to shout to be heard. At this point, Tantie had been hanging on for many secs, so I snatched up the phone so she knew I was still there.
"I'm sensing this isn't the best time to talk," she brilliantly deduced. But I wasn't ready to relinquish the few moments of adult conversation I get in a day, so I struggled to talk, pacify, and keep from injury as best I could.
That's when Rascal bit me in the butt. You may recall this has happened before. By the time I had all the kids sorted out (Kye in his crib, Tweenie working on homework, and Rascal in Time Out), Tantie had to go.
Apparently she has a life. Go figure.
