I burned dinner tonight. Not all of it. Part of it. I remembered the dish in the oven only moments before pandemonium ensued. The smoke detector beeped deafeningly. It’s human voice broadcasted with urgency, “Fire, Fire, Fire.” The dog barked incessantly, increasingly louder and in sync with the smoke detector. The girl covered her ears, screamed and ran from the kitchen. B reacted calmly. He handed me the baby after I removed the offending pan from the oven and set it safely to rest away from any fire. He stood under the battle claxon attempting to silence it.
Read MoreLast night, baby was moving a lot. For the first time, I could feel the kicks outside of my tummy. I asked B if he wanted to feel the baby. He rolled over and placed his hand on my tummy just as a super power kick thrust from my belly.
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