Sometimes I am asleep.
Mostly I pretend to be.
Often there is a din. A stampede through my room which jars my senses.
Occasionally there are whispers and tip-toeing.
Regularly I wake to distant conversation, and like a fly on the proverbial wall I hear everything.
I hear the tea kettle steaming,
I hear hands furrowing through a Lego bin,
I hear little girl voices babbling like the ceaseless flow of a mountain brook,
I hear baby squawks and motor noises made by boys.
From behind closed eyelids I know what projects are going on.
Pancake making, rocket building, pencil drawing...painting.
One morning, eyes still fastened shut I surmised that my eldest was
working on a project using model paint.
There was a hubbub.
A frantic command for someone to grab a paper towel - "quick."
slow calm voice say with great fanfare:
"And from now forward
this shall be known as...
THE TABLE... of SILVER."
Then with eyes squeezed even tighter, I broke out into luminous grin
shoulders quaking with laughter.
With images of instant-drying silver paint tickling the back of my eyelids
there was little else I could do
And be glad I was still in bed.
The now infamous Table of Silver
(I ask "why did you stop there? Next time would you please paint the whole table.")