Who ever said silence is golden , was never a mother!

Long awaited and almost never present are those few precious moments that any mother desires, the minutes of complete silence and contentment in our home. But as my own mother would say, "be careful what you wish for."

Recently, I was feverishly attempting to mop my boys' goopy blue breakfast yogurt off the kitchen floor. But, my two sons, The General and The Tank, kept tracking their grimy foot prints over it as they re-enacted battle scenes from Narnia. Deafeningly arguing over who would wear the knight suit of armor and hold the sword, that Santa gave to my little General, to fight the "mean witch."

After several minutes, my pleading for them to quiet down and stay in the family room quickly turned in to threatening. And when my carefully chosen words of, "Get off the floor or else," didn't work, I did what any mother would shamefully do to keep her sanity. I bribed my children with a movie.

I marched The General and The Tank up to my room to watch a movie. I got them all set up, put Narnia- The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe on for the 100th time! Then, I left them quietly sitting on my bed, mesmerized by the scenes unfolding before them. I figured this would at least buy me ten minutes of peace before they would come looking for me to sit and watch the movie with them.

Back downstairs I went to finish washing the floor; I was down there for maybe a total of seven minutes. I didn't hear a peep the entire time. No screaming and no loud thuds. I was impressed. I even debated making myself a cup of tea before going to check on my two angels.

Instead, I put the mop away and headed up stairs. As I got closer to my room, I could hear the muffled giggles of a mischievous toddle saying, "Yummmm." I open the door.

There stood the General, soaked with a two gallon jug from my humidifier over his brother's head, pushing the button in that releases water; and the Tank was just parked on my carpet like a wet dog with his mouth wide open at a water spicket trying to catch the ever flowing water.

Before I could even think, I asked, "What are you doing? Are you crazy?" Dumbfounded the General answered, "No Mommy, just thirsty."

After about a minute of reprimand, I realized they were just tuning me out. A trait they inherited from their father. With nothing more to say, I stripped the boys of their sopping clothes, cleaned up the flood in my room, and shuffled them downstairs to return to their boisterous play.

As the room filled with silly laughter, I realized that this is what is truly golden.