Sunday morning. Breakfast was made. Kitchen was cleared. Kids were playing happily, so flopped on my stomach in my bedroom to read the last chapter of my book, “Don’t Let the Goats Eat the Loquat Trees.”
2 minutes in I hear a swish as the door is pushed open. “Mommy, what you doing??” Naomi came around to the far side of the bed to look me in the face.
“Reading, honey.” I kept the answer short in the vain hope that she’d get bored and go away. Instead she grabbed hold of the comforter, found a toe hold, and hauled herself up onto the bed. I carried on reading. She bounced over to the shelves at the headboard, pulled down my paua shell filled with little stones, and tipped it onto the bedspread.
“Naomi! Stop that. Go away. Get off the bed and go out of my room!” I collected the stones from in and around the blankets, plopped her on the floor, shepherded her quickly through the door and closed it firmly behind her. She can’t read the handle when it’s latched.
I had been back to my book for three minutes when I heard the latch again. “Mom, what are you doing?” It was Milo’s turn to enquired.
“Just reading for a minute, can you go play?” He started the ascent of the bedclothes, and I abruptly cut him off. “I don’t want you in my room, go play!” I commanded, pointing towards the door. “One….Two….Threeeeee! Close that door behind you!”
I pondered how heavy a dead bolt would have to be to keep the kids out of the room and made a mental note to peruse Mitre 10’s hardware section sometime soon. Hardly a minute had elapsed before I heard the door again.
“Hey, what are you doing?” Jeremiah asked.
“I’ve got half a page left to my book, and I just want to finish it!” I flung back in frustration. “I need a hidey hole! Or perhaps a second floor room accessed by a trap door with a pull-up ladder!” He grinned. He’s used to my eccentric outbursts.