Not at me

Eamon and I went to Nighttown Wednesday night, to see a band. We were breezy in our summer clothes and me in my high gladiator sandals. The music was Brazilian, the glasses were tinkling, it was everything I hoped for. Then I noticed my purse vibrating and went into the anteroom to call home. Apparently Gus shot Jack with his own Nerf gun. Is there anything more insulting then your own weapon being used on you. Yes, there is and it's my children trying to control me, unconsciously of course, by calling. I can't turn the phone off, Jack is plugged in to a heart monitor and that would be downright irresponsible, but I wish that the usage was actually for emergencies and such as opposed to play by play of foam battles. We were home before dark and I knew that Gus would be almost human with Jack being tethered to the wires. It all was fine in the end, but it's somewhat hard knowing that I can never really just be; there will always be a level that is not in the moment and enjoying the experience, but watching and listening for something or other.