You Can't Fight the (Magnetic) Power

Our house isn't huge. It's big enough, but not huge. Even if it were, it would still be hard-pressed to fight the fact that there are seven of us living together. Obviously, being alone is a rarity in this place.


Sometimes, I can sneak off to another part of the house for a few quiet minutes. I might go off to my bedroom while the kids are playing and catch up on a favorite show while I fold the laundry. Maybe I'll sit down in the living room and use my laptop. Unfortunately, my children have developed some kind of weird sixth sense that allows them to discern when I have just settled into an activity. Not only that, but this extra perception includes a built-in tracking feature that enables the kids to find me - no matter where I try to hide.


There is something about the chemical composition of my and my children's bodies that has created some kind of magnetic attraction. No matter where I go, they always find me. They're like little baby CIA agents. I could crawl under a bed and surround myself with the crap that they've shoved under there and they would still hunt me down. (Come to think of it, that's one that I haven't tried and should probably hang onto for future use.) If the kids are in the living room and I go down to the bedrooms, they feel compelled to migrate to that end of the house. If I manage to sneak away to the other end, they soon follow.


It's the Magnet Effect. Sean has a set of little, wooden trains that have magnets to connect them. As he drives them around, they'll snap together with a little 'click' and then continue along the track all in a row. That's how it is with me and the kids. No matter where I am, click, click, click, click, click, they're all cruising along right behind me. Unlike Sean's trains, however, I can turn around and face them, but I just can't seem to repel them.


So, I go about my business with my minions attached to my butt. Except for when I hide in the bathroom. God bless that little, push-button lock.

There we are...