Radar

Back when I was playing Warcraft, my kids had an unerring sense for when we were heading into a Boss fight.

They would be quiet for hours, playing with their toys, and then the second the we would start the event on the stairs of Zul-Farrak, or summon Nightbane, or start talking to The Lich King, they’d come running to see what was up. This happened with the sound turned off. It happened with the doors shut. It happened from across the house. It was eerie. I think it’s a pheromone I give off that says, “Mom’s doing something interesting, and it’s not about you!”

I know what you’re thinking. Thank goodness sexy time with Chris does not have this effect.

Today, I read the paper. I had a cup of tea. I worked in the yard, or at least sat out side while Chris worked in the yard. I piddled around for four hours. “Hey kids, you wanna …” I called upstairs. “No thanks.”

I sat down to write.

BAM. Babyswarm.

It’s like the time Itsrealtome said, “Goddamit Evita, once, just once, can’t you walk into this instance without aggroing every fucking mob?”

“Nope,” I said.