Jack is playing kickball in the front yard with all the neighbors...in a full Spiderman costume, including a mask that completely obstructs his vision. He has yet to run into a tree.
Caroline has set up the camera on the kitchen table, and it's videotaping her as she sings and dances to Taylor Swift songs on the iPod.
Whit came home from work with a cold (you heard me, a cold. He's down for the count. I will not mention that I birthed a gigantic child, got him baptized, had the party and then served Thanksgiving dinner to 14 people, all within two weeks of the birth). So he's in bed, moaning.
My dad is going out to dinner with my brother, so he's waiting, standing in the middle of the street, leaning on his cane, shouting to me, "Call him, damnit! Where the hell is he??"
I'm eating jellybeans for dinner. (Don't worry, I am feeding the kids a nutritious dinner. Sort of.)
I bet no one else in the entire world is having a moment just like this one.