Sometimes all three of them are talking to me at the same time.
Sometimes all four of them are talking to me at the same time.
Sometimes I don't even understand what they are all saying.
Sometimes they are talking on and on and on and on and I'm walking in circles.
Getting 1 a drink.
Nodding yes to 2.
Grabbing the white crayon off the floor for 3.
Trading the forks between 1 and 3.
Trading the bibs between 3 and 2.
Saying, "Uh-huh" to 4.
Saying, "Uh-huh" to 1.
Telling 4, "If you answer that phone, so help me you deal with it because I can't right now."
Telling 3, "Can we please, for the love of all that's sane and chocolate, use inside voices?"
Sending a telepathic message to 4:
Please tape their mouths shut immediately.
Realizing 4 is not on the same wave length.
Giving 1 the pink plate.
Giving 2 the wrong plate.
Looking for the masking tape myself.
Telling 2, "You get what you get and you don't pitch a fit."
Telling 2, "You are SO going to regret that."
But sometimes I'm pulled up short.
Like when The Pixie (3) said, "And that's why mom. Because it's black jam isn't it? It's black jam."
Huh?
The blur of colors and noise slowed down around me.
What?
Her little face became clear in front of me.
Black jam?
I looked at the counter where I saw no sign of jam. Red, purple, or black.
What are you talking about? I said to her. I don't even know what you're saying.
She sighed with exasperation, "I'm saying. It's black jam."
Of course.
Duh.
And then it all sped up to full speed again.
Look 1, next week you can choose the pancake color.
2, we are not having tortillas right now.
3! I cannot stress enough how that kind of noise belongs outside. . .