Matt was rocking baby Jack. I was making chocolate chip cookies with Amélie. We were eating at least as much cookie dough as we were spooning onto the cookie sheets. The Messiah was playing on the stereo. As I was humming along to “And he shall speak peace unto his people…” the doorbell rang.
Three neighbor kids barged in. One picked up the cheerleader megaphone and started yelling. Another unabashedly walked over to the bowl of cookie batter and stuck her fingers right in. And then another loudly called, “Let’s go upstairs!” and off they noisily trooped into Amélie’s bedroom.
I really do like peace and quiet and order and harmony. I had spent a good portion of the day cleaning and picking up and reordering my life.
Now my home is invaded with a Little Mermaid, Cinderella, a bride, and a little boy brandishing a rhinestone sceptor. My living room is scattered with pom poms, tiaras, necklaces, high heels, and magic wands.
Cinderella just loudly banished the Little Mermaid to the dungeon on the stairs.
And Jack just woke up.
It’s all good, though. I like these kids. Amélie adores them. I’d pick their happy, noisy clatter and chatter over silence any day.
…well, most days.