So there I am watching the kids while Susan is at work. She made sure they were fed and clean before she left. She gave us all a hug, stressed how important her work is and how far behind she is. Tells us that she loves us and heads out.

Peace reigns. We coo. We sit up. We creep around a little. We play with little animals that crinkle or beep or play poorly digitized nursery rhymes.

Now what to do with the NEXT ten minutes . . .

Maybe a nap. Maybe the play goes on for a while. But sooner than later she starts crying. It's not a cry that I can fix. I'm not the Mom.

I can change the diaper. I can feed the bottle (maybe) or a little cereal (!). I can bounce, or go outside, or pray or whatever. She is going to cry.

But my wife is busy. Her work is important. And she's behind. And she loves us and expects her to love her back.

But the baby is crying.

So I wait . . . and the baby cries. And I wait some more. . . . and still she cries.

The phone rings. It's the wife (who is busy and behind and who's work is important). She asks how things are and I tell a lighter version of the truth. The baby is fussy. A little. But the wife senses something. I reassure her and she goes back to her work. THe baby continues to cry.

It's been two hours since the wife left. That's 1.5 hours of crying baby. She calls again. I tell her that she needs to come home. The baby is making me crazy with the crying. The other kids have tried to help. They have failed too. (Thank God)

The wife is frustrated but leaves work. Going to have to bring stuff home and be less effective. I know I'll be ounished later but I need a break. Baby continues to cry.

Wait! Silence. The baby has stopped crying. She seems happy, at peace again. I know what this means. The wife is at the end of the block. I look out the window and there is the van.

The wife walks in. She looks at the smiling baby. She looks at me. She shakes her head and gives me a look . . . . well . . . on that does not indicate the professed love on her leaving.

So, is the baby clairvoyant or can she smell the wife at 300 ft?