On Sunday, I abandoned my husband for the afternoon to go to the theater with my mom. We saw “August: Osage County,” which was excellent. But it was a veeerrrry looonnng play. So I didn’t get home until almost 7:30 pm.

During one of the intermissions (yes, there were two of them), I called home to make sure that he bought the girls the right kind of shoes – their activity in my absence was shoe shopping. Chloe picked up the phone and she informed me that Sophie was taking her nap. I asked to speak to Papa, and she informed me that Papa was taking his nap.

Okay, I thought – not quite the Papa/daughters day I had in mind. I asked her, “What are doing?” She cheerfully replied, “I’m watching the clock.” As if this was some kind of legitimate activity, like coloring or drawing pictures or reading. I had to stifle a laugh. It turns out my dear girl was under orders from her father to wake him up in “10 minutes.”

As I continued to imagine the scene – Chloe sitting on the couch in the sunroom watching the clock on the Verizon FIOS TV box – as if it were the most normal thing in the world, I couldn’t stifle my laugh anymore. This girl can’t sit still for one minute without clamoring for someone to do something with her, yet she sounded perfectly content waiting on for time to advance when I spoke to her. Watching the clock…for crying out loud!