Dinnertime

Dinnertime at our house is a crazy time. Chucky doesn't get home until 5:30 and by then Libby is almost starving, so I try to have dinner on the table promptly at 5:30. The crazy time is from 5 to 5:30, when I am preparing the food and setting the table. Libby is absolutely a wreck. She pulls on my legs, cries, screams, throws things, and this is her reward . . . a seat on the countertop in the middle of the action, snack included. These are the moments I wish time to speed up. The only moments. It's the hardest half hour of my day, and after five evenings of it in a row, the weekend looks better than ever.