Quiet Time

Jane telling me to be quiet by putting finger to mouth and saying "stop." (I've met her public screams too often with a "Jane, really? C'mon. Stop.")

Are my children too young for Quiet Time?

Am I referring to something of which you have no knowledge of?

Quiet Time is an institution from my youth.

Near dinner time almost every night when I was growing up, my mom would declare to us, her five children, "it's Quiet Time." This meant we were to play quietly upstairs until my dad walked through the door ... or dinner was ready (even then my father was the busiest person I knew).

Of course, my brother's brilliant mind concocted "blanky crawlers", which was our diabolical way out of Quiet Time. We'd roam around the house with our large quilts (lovingly made by Grandma Olsen) draped over the top of us thinking we were covertly invisible to my mother making dinner in the kitchen. I don't think she cared because we were being quiet.

But I digress.

Quiet Time is marvelous. And perhaps my children are too young, but I'm still setting the stage.

For the past 3 nights, around 4:45 p.m., I have declared "Quiet Time." Jane pulls her quiet face (see above) and she goes into her room to read (of course, I have to shut the door to keep her there) and Elliot goes into his cradle.

Both fuss for about a minute, but then I have blissful quietude to finish dinner or take a deep breath.

Of course, this is what I find

when I leave a 17-month-old alone in her room (the day before it was the contents of her hamper, which she was separating for me).

Whatever. I just had a 15-minute vacation. I can tackle anything.