Starting at 9:28am, Greg and I agreed to discuss our approach to his 9:30am conference call he planned to take in the car while en route to the cottage.

We used thirty seconds to explain to the girls the importance of sitting quietly in the back seat of the van, working silently on their Highlights hidden pictures, searching for the missing red pepper (hiding on the penguin’s skate blade, where it always is) and the remaining minute and a half practising who could be the quietest family member who would receive the coveted “air knuckles” followed by exploding fist if they were the winner.

We thought this was enough time to sufficiently explain the importance of being quiet while Daddy was on the phone and was just close enough to the actual call it would make sense with their starting now! approach to most activities.

Greg began to dial. I made eye contact in the rear view mirror with all three girls. The baby was exploring the never ending line around a tennis ball, tracing it with her finger taking intermittent breaks to sip her milk to deal with the spherical rubik’s cube of frustration. Yes, she would be quiet for the duration of the call provided she didn’t drop infinity ball.

I took a deep breath, Greg began, “Good morning everyone, it’s Gr..”

“MOO!”

The baby dropped the ball, literally.

It was a guttural moo, not the kind you would expect to hear from a twenty-one month old child. It was the kind you would hear from a child possessed by a frat boy in a backyard animals belching contest and she was hands down, the winner.

I didn’t know what was funnier. The fact he didn’t make it through his name without being mooed, or the fact she was mooing at a field of horses.