I am in my bedroom making my bed.
The phone rings.
"Hello," I say, as I throw the bed pillows onto the floor, grab hold of the comforter and fold it down across the bed.
"Mom," the voice says, "It's Chloe." (uh ... I know)
"Yes," I say, as I continue to tug and pull at the sheets.
"Can you help us sew those things on the shirt for T?"
I am holding the phone against my ear with my shoulder, huffing a bit now as I am struggling to throw all the decorative pillows from the floor back up on the bed and I say, "I guess I could do that."
"Okay, good," Chloe says and then yells my answer loudly to her nearby sister.
I smooth the top of my comforter with my free hand and then sit on the edge of my nicely made-up bed and say into the phone, "Where are you at, Chloe?"
And she laughs and says, "Downstairs."
On the upside ... That's exactly what I thought.