At this very moment, there are five girls running in and around the house. It's impossible to keep an eye on all of them, so I've opened every door and window and am depending on my ears and instincts. Sometimes when there is a tone of voice or a noise that concerns me, I track it down to its source only to find out that it's "just a story."
I cut up those tiny Dulcinea watermelons and put the slices on strategically placed plates, knowing that in ten minutes or so, the dishes can be rounded up and rinsed off and re-stocked with graham crackers or apple slices. When someone runs by the desk here, I say, "Hey, what's going on?" The answer is always, "Nothing! We're fine!"
When I hear bikes and scooters and little yelps, I check to make sure everyone's wearing a helmet.
When someone leaves the bathroom, and I don't hear the toilet flush, I go flush it.
When shoes are abandoned in the hallways, I bring them to the front door.
When I hear Lea cry, I grab some Band-Aids before running outside.
I eat a cookie. As payment, you know. For services rendered.