We're in trouble. They're paying attention.

It has been a rough month and a half at this house, with our youngest being at the hospital for 41 days. When we were in the home stretch, the strength of some of our children to endure the prolonged absence of their mother began to ebb. Our own patience with the situation had been taxed as well.

Driving me back to the hospital one Sunday, my six year old said, "Pretend you aren't going to the hospital." We explained that I had to return to keep an eye on her baby brother. "Yes, but what if you didn't?" she insisted. After multiple attempts to explain the situation, her father finally said, "This is not a fantasy. No pretending. This is real. No pretending in the car." It was a bit over the top, but we had run through the conversation several times trying to address her sadness and at the same time, explain the problem.

The kids began to squabble amongst themselves. One sought to tattle.

"Just pretend there's a wall of glass right here between the first row and the back." Their father waved his hand.

"Now Daddy, there's no pretending in this car." the six year old piped up.