When all three of our boys are home, our house is usually noisy. One of them is usually laughing, one is usually screeching and one is usually crying. All of them are stomping.
This is normal.
This, I generally ignore unless someone is bleeding.
But the quiet-- The quiet scares me.
When our house fell silent in the afternoon, I knew something was up. It didn't take me long to find them.
I just followed the trail of orange dust and the sound of indiscreet crunching.
Busted.
Well, at least they're sharing.
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