Lollipops

Sometimes, between the shrieking, fighting, wrastlin', clothes yanking, arm pinching, hair pulling and sister tripping, there will suddenly and very surreptitiously be a quiet moment made of bunny ears and a mother's heartbeat.

It doesn't typically last long.

But when it does, I'm so glad Andy bought those awful, sticky, gross, end-up-on-the-windowsill-and-in-her-hair-every-time Tiger lollipops.   (That I hid in the pantry.  Behind the flour and ten year old flax seed bag.)

Because they take a while to finish.