Unless it’s at night when they’re supposed to be asleep, that is. Sudden silence eminating from the corner in which your toddler has been auspiciously romping around in is every toddler parent’s worst nightmare. For it is when we hear this silence that the hairs on the back of our neck rise up, the eyes we have developed in the back of our heads peer around in a hopeless attempt to evaluate the damage we will undoubtedly be facing in mere seconds. All of this happens in a fraction of a second as the world swirls to a slow stop around us and our mouths open to call out to our supposed angelic toddler who knows the difference between right and wrong but chooses to temporarily suspend this knowledge – sort of a pre-historic agnostic if you will. As your toddler rises up, your breath becomes trapped deep in your lungs, awaiting to see if it will be exhaled gently or hurled against the wall like a racquetball.

Most of the time at my house, it’s not exhaled gently. Today Charlotte had gotten ahold of the aqua-doodle pens (they were full), opened them, emptied them, and proceeded to chew on the caps. Not a huge problem except that the caps are a little small and she likes to put things COMPLETELY into her mouth. And of course, this happened while I was nursing Cameron so there I was, pinned to the couch by a 15lb three month old making vain attempts at getting Charlotte, who just turned two on Friday, to give me her new “toys.” It took me ten minutes, five of which was spent with Alli and Charlotte screaming and crying because I tried to get Alli to get them for me which is sometimes more successful – they have that toddler-sister bond and sometimes Charlotte will just hand things to Alli. Not this – oh NO! Not her new chew toys!

Like I said. Silence isn’t always golden but man, when it is – it REALLY is.