Sunday, January 23, 2011
I was up early, as usual, down in the basement trying to get my exercise in before the kids arose. Pedaling, watching CSI, and keeping one eye on the baby monitor in the hopes there would be no activity.
Alas, halfway through my workout, the red bars jumped up and stayed up. I hit pause, got off the bike, and turned the volume up on the monitor. It was Aaron, crying. A baby-like cry, steady and distressing. I resigned myself to having my workout - and my moment of solitude - cut painfully short.
But then I kept listening. And Aaron kept crying, but it didn't sound real anymore. Jada's voice appeared: "C'mon, baby, it's OK." I realized what was happening: they were playing house. Aaron was playing baby, and Jada was playing mommy.
I kept the monitor volume up, just to make sure nothing escalated into anything more than that. But they were just fine. I was able to continue and complete my workout. And when I returned upstairs and called out to them to say good morning, they answered back and then continued on with their playing.
Thank God we are well out of the "distressed crying at odd hours of the night" phase. I am relieved we have good kids.