While the Cap’n put the girls to bed tonight, Bill subjected me to one of our countless games of parental Marco Polo.
“Mama.”
“Yes, B.”
Pause.
“Mama.”
“Yes, B.”
Pause.
“Mama.”
“Yes, B.”
Pause.
“Mama.”
“Yes, B.”
Pause.
“Mama.”
“Yes, B.”
Pause.
“Mama.”
“What?”
Pause.
“Mama.”
“Yes, B.”
Pause.
“Mama.”
“WHAT?”
“Knee,” pointing to own knee that got slightly skinned yesterday.
“Yes, you scraped your knee. Is it feeling better?”
“Yep.”
“Good.”
Pause.
“Mama.”
“Yes, B?”
“Mama.”
“Yes, B?”
“Mama.”
“Yes, B?”
“Mama.”
“Yes, B?”
“Mama.” “Yes, B?” “Mama.” “Yes, B?” “MamaYes, B?MamaYesB?MamaYesB!!!!!!!”
“Mama.”
Gritted teeth. “Yes, B?”
“Knee.”
“Yes, B.”
If I wanted to save some money, I could take this kid out of day care and have him home with me ALL DAY LONG. Then again, perhaps that 1000 shekels a month is well spent after all.
Shimshonit 
I have those feelings about tzaharon. Afternoons are not my best times of day to begin with (I am a morning person), add needy, bored kids and it’s just a powder keg of ick.
Kate: We’re not big TV watchers (don’t even own one), but I understand how plunking the kids in front of it can sometimes buy an adult some much-needed peace and quiet. On an afternoon such as you describe, when the kids are whining to watch a DVD on the computer, I’m sometimes willing to give in, just to get them out of my hair. Of course, Bill still doesn’t watch TV—too little to take an interest—so he’s still following me around saying, “Mama” all the time.