It was quiet.
Too quiet.
Dinner - a chicken potpie - was in the oven.
Joseph was patiently waiting for me to open a computer game for him.
Chad was in the kitchen with Elizabeth.
And then...
"MOMMY! Look at Elizabeth!!!!"
Hearing the panic in my son's voice, I jumped from my chair and raced the three steps down the hallway to the kitchen. There stood Elizabeth, in all her cute glory, throwing eggs - organic, free range $4/dozen eggs - onto the kitchen floor where they shattered sending yolk and shell across the kitchen like so much shrapnel.
"Chad!"
And there stood Chad, not more than a foot away from our darling daughter, chowing down on cold chicken left over from the pot pie prep even though said pot pie was in the oven with only 15 minutes on the timer. "What?"
"Do you see what your daughter did?!"
"How did she get the eggs?" he asked as he took another bite of chicken.
And, somehow, he walked away.
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