Around 6pm

Tonight I stand in the kitchen, sneaking a bit of reading in between checking the chicken and corn cooking on the stove. In the living room, I hear my family….my daughter sitting at the computer, silent except for the occasional, “Daddy, look! I drew a girl with glasses…” My son running around, his little feet making a slapping sound, louder than his size would suggest him capable of. He drags his toy vacuum around, then momentarily drops it to pick up the dog’s ball and ineptly throw it for her, giggling as it lands about 6 inches in front of him, then rolls away. Our dog, still a puppy in her exuberance, snatches it up, glances doubtfully at him, then carries over to my husband, who she is well aware can throw it further. He obliges, and with a “good dog!” tosses it down the hall. Tail wagging, she chases after.

I put down my book and stir the chicken, the smell of the coconut oil I am cooking it in spilling into the air around me. From the living room come the happy shrieks of a boy who’s just been swept off of his feet by his daddy, and flung into the hair. I flinch at the same time that I smile. The dog bites her ball several times, causing it to squeak maniacally. My daughter says something about what she’s drawing on the computer, and in the chaos, I hear a crash….In the silence , I call “Is everything all right out there?”

There is a pause, then my husband – “Oh yes!” I hear the smile in his voice. The chaos resumes, giggles and feet and a squeaky ball.

“Dinner’s ready!”