The Trouble with Lulls

Every mother fears it. That unnatural silence which unexpectedly settles on a house in the late morning after all the favorite toys and books have been handled and tossed aside. It is eerie and it always, I mean ALWAYS, forbodes wickedness. So, at the first sounds of silence this morning, I sprang into action. Starting in the main rooms, I searched the living room, kitchen, den, and then worked my way through the bedrooms, darting in and out of each room like a panther. And then, finally, I found them. Actually, I smelled them before I found them. They were hiding in the bathroom like a couple of teenagers smoking out behind campus, this time trading butts for a bottle. Lil' Miss was sitting on the shower ledge massaging a glob of plumeria-scented lotion into her thighs. She was moving her hands around in circular motions, no doubt the influence of her many trips with Dad to the chiropractor. And then, out of the corner of my eye, I spotted him. Baby Dude was crouched down in the corner, shoveling lotion straight into his mouth. His face was all contorted but he was undetoured. Maybe he thought it was an acquired taste. As I initiated damage control, I couldn't help but smile at how the silence always gives them away. "In the bathroom, with the lotion, Miss Scarlett!!"