It's not very often you listen and hear a bunch of nothing.
Here, at our house, it's usually "Troller (stroller), Brubba, MY troller Brubba, NO!" Followed by, "Urrrrrrrrrgggh, give it to me Abbbbbby - MINE!" Why Brubba wants Abby's troller to begin with is beyond me. Probably to hide all of her baby girl kose (clothes) and run over Daddy Long Legs or something heinous.
This morning, Nammy and Pop took Grayson to preschool and Abby went along for the ride in her pajamas and coat. Oxycotton look but cute when you're two. I stayed back with Sadie and cleaned up the kitchen. Then I leaned on the kitchen sink and sipped at some tea-with- my-honey drink. Then I freaked out. I couldn't hear anyone.
Where were all the high pitched trillings?
Why wasn't the phone ringing?
Where was that wood chipper that isn't a minute past 7am?
Why is it so strikingly mute in here?
And then, because she is the missing link to my brain, Sadie whined for a cookie.
"Thank God. I was beginning to spiral."
This is totally why people (women) have 32 cats and dress their iguanas. I promise you this now, you will definitely see me on Hoarders one day. I'll be the one who is keeping ketchup bottles and tiny Vienna Sausage containers because my children don't write or call. Just turn the channel, pretend it's someone else and mail me some Heinz 57 for Christmas to cover up all that screaming quiet.