The cricket chirped. I didn't.

“Honeeeeee, can you shut that thing off!?” Daddy wailed from the family room.

I was in the kitchen, trying to entertain our toddler-who-was-on-the-cusp-of-not-needing-two-naps-a-day-but-not-quite-being-able-to-get-by-on-one while managing multiple other tasks simultaneously. It was near lunchtime.

Daddy had been holding the baby for about two hours on the pretense of helping, but I think he was really looking for a good excuse to sit on the couch.

“That thing” was The Very Quiet Cricket by Eric Carle and is a book about a cricket who can’t figure out how to make a sound until he meets his true love, at which time he finally finds his voice. When you turn to the last page of the book, it makes cricket sounds.

Well, since the book hadn’t been closed, it was chirping intermittently and obviously very annoying to Daddy.

I hadn’t noticed it, maybe because I was used to the constant background noise of parenting. It’s not something I could ever shut off, once I became a mother. My kids were always at the forefront of everything I did or the first consideration in every decision I made.

The book was on the coffee table right in front of the couch where Daddy was sitting.

I stopped what I was doing, took a deep breath, and paused until I was sure my expression was neutral. I turned and locked eyes with Daddy as I strode across the kitchen and into the family room. I closed the book, wordlessly.

He said, “What? I couldn’t move or I might wake the baby!”

(Hello, like your yelling to me to shut it off isn’t going to disturb him?).

Through a thin smile, I answered, “Mmmm hmmmm,” then turned and left the room, rolling my eyes to the heavens.

He continued, “I’m trying to be helpful…..”

Helping isn’t the same as parenting, I wanted to say shout. Parenting isn’t something you can put off until it’s convenient for you. But I remained silent. Because unlike the cricket, I had no voice in that relationship. I couldn’t push back because I needed to keep the peace for the children’s sake.

I finished fixing lunch. I smiled at our toddler as I buckled him into his highchair to eat his yogurt, raisins, and Goldfish crackers. I kept that smile on my face as I brought Daddy his plate with a sandwich, potato salad and sliced cucumbers, which I exchanged for the now-awake baby, again wordlessly.

I knew I’d probably indulge in a good “music scream” with Godsmack in the car as soon as I got the chance.

The silence was heavy.

A few minutes later, Daddy called out again from the other room—

“Do we have anything to drink?”