Trouble Sounds Like...

...Nothing. Silence. For all my wishing and asking and begging for a few quiet moments, the ominous quiet often speaks of trouble.

I have been upstairs sorting, cleaning and packing and Nicco has occupied himself with cartoons, trains, airplanes, and new library books. He was playing trains noisily for quite some time when I suddenly realized it was quiet. Too quiet. I went downstairs to check on my kid and he was sitting on the arm of the couch ripping a popsicle wrapper open with his teeth. When he saw me come down the stairs he got a very frightened look on his face, quickly turned it into his sweetest smile, and asked "Do you love me?"

Happily for me, he was only sneaking a popsicle, not writing on walls with permanent marker or something more dramatic. Still, his response to getting busted was pretty amusing.