The reaching for sharp instruments, the involuntary choking motions, the falsetto giggle - these things make me believe that I'll be shuffling around in my bathrobe before too long.
The purple-clad, yellow-haired child has been playing with my cell phone for over an hour now. Right here, next to me. She does the same thing with it over and over, endlessly entertained by its colorful display and toddler-size charm. Every time I try to use it she grabs at it and says over and over, "Gimme da phone!" And I lie here with a purple-bead necklace around my neck, with fingernails painted from an afternoon catnap on the couch, and with my right eye twitching. Is it any wonder that my children won't listen to me?