Most nights, the four of us gather in the living room before the boys go to bed, and My Old Man reads The Hobbit to us. I cherish these moments – such a reliable, gentle, and cozy end to full and exhausting days. But recently, the three of them discovered the truth – I haven’t been listening all that well. They were equal parts horrified and amused when they realized that I couldn’t call up some of the most basic plot points and I stumbled over naming some of the major characters. Hey, what can I say? I’m not here for the story, I’m here for the time with my family, with knitting in my hands, kids by my side, and my husband’s voice in the background.

I’ve decided to try to listen better now that I know I might be quizzed at any moment.