On Thursday night, as I snuggled into my favorite spot in the front room with the book, Practicing the Presence, by Goldsmith, a loud bellow rang through the house, "HONEY! COME HERE!". "No!" I thought as I planted myself deeper in the pillows of the sofa. The call came again and again, with a rising panic and mirth. ARGH! The frequency of mama's quiet moments are pretty slim and being called into mother duty after 15 hours on call, isn't always welcome. I walked toward the family room and to my surprise, I caught the distinct waft of something unpleasant and saw Bodhi perched on the tiny toilet he has never used. He was perfectly proud of himself as he announced, "Mama, I poop in the living room!". Imagine that and I just thought I would read myself into relaxation.
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