Their father stopped talking, turned around, and stared at the TV, but the TV had also stopped it’s mad dash. He continued his ‘conversation’ with the girls about their report cards and as he did, the TV began racing through the channels up and then back down again. “What the hell is going on?” he asked the TV. Then the tirade was redirected at me. “What the hell’s wrong with that damn thing?” “I have no idea, but we can get it checked out tomorrow.” Suddenly, all of us heard a baby crying. It was coming from somewhere upstairs. Then we heard it again — a baby was crying from upstairs in our house. All three girls raced up the stairs with me right behind them. Of course, there was no baby. How could there be? The girls stayed upstairs and did their homework in their rooms.
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