Let's Make A Deal

Bargaining with babies is hard. I thought the Schmidtlets and I had a deal: no learning to crawl until after I turned in my revision.

The Wild Imp had other ideas. And he is fast.

Baby A isn't yet crawling, but he's still mobile: rolling around like a top, scooting backward across the room, and calling: "Mama. MAMA. MAAAAAAMMAAAAA," if I dare to leave his sight. Better yet, the little wombat would like me to constantly be within reach of his chubby little paws.

Chasing and clutching aren't the best revision-companions. But that's what PEI was for. That's what the hours between bedtime and sunrise are for.

And I finished last Thursday.

Pressed *Send* on the e-mail to my editor – and then, before I could even gulp a panicked breath or sigh in relief:

THUNDER.

POWER LOSS

THE WAILS OF TWO WOKEN NAPPERS

Have I mentioned that one of the major threads in my book is superstition?

My first thought was one very like my main character, Mia, would have had: That was a very bad sign.

Later, after the twins had been soothed, the power restored, and my confidence petted by some Twitter support, I revised my thinking: That was a very good sign – if the power had gone out even a minute sooner, I would've been prevented from sending.

And we all know how little I like to wait.

Apparently the Schmidtlets have inherited that trait from me: The Imp is extremely IMPatient, and Baby A is currently calling my name.  

Maybe we'll strike a new bargain: Ten more minutes of naptime in exchange for peaches at every meal.

*goes to buy peaches in bulk*