When silence isn’t golden

Every mom should know the above as one of the golden rules of parenting. Right? One could say we experienced this first-hand last night when I thought we were all having a blissful, fight-free, family moment. We were all enjoying each others’ company in the basement. Dad was reading one of his longer-than-life historical biographies of some really important person in history who’s dead — I can’t remember whom. Mom and Nate were watching some longer-than-I-can-keep-my-eyes-open children’s movie with talking rodent-puppets with British accents. Matt was coloring on some longer-than-I-can-believe-is-technically-possible wings of a paper airplane he had fashioned together with strips of computer paper and tape. All was right with the world. Eight-thirty came and bedtime was announced. The children — willingly — trotted up the steps escorted by two loving parents, who help them brush their teeth and tuck them in and give them kisses and promise them the bed bugs won’t bite. Bliss, right?

Wrong. Child #2 had been exceptionally quiet that night — zoned out as he usually does when he’s coloring — because he had grown concerned that the wings of his plane still weren’t long enough. So he kept coloring. Off the paper. On both sides of the plane. In permanent blue magic marker. On the cream carpet.

I don’t think mom needs to even tell her readers what she spent the remainder of her night doing.

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