It’s like a zen internet garden in here. Us grownups are clacking away on our soft-touch keyboards in our little online worlds. The children are snuggled in their beds, clutching cats and babies, imagined and real. Somewhere in the distance meditative music plays in a loop and sleep begins to roll over our neighborhood.

Wolfie thrives on routine. We somehow got him hooked on music as he went to sleep, and this ended up being the compromise for all-night music. He’s not up every time a CD shuts off to turn it back on, and we don’t get woken up at 1, 2, 3 and 4 to turn it on for him or have him complain that we won’t. He sleeps better with a little noise, it’s reassuring, and we get to sleep through the night. Everyone wins.

But hearing the music from what sounds like a wooden xylophone makes me thirsty for a pot of tea. I suppose it’s only a matter of time before it’s the latest pop wonder instead, so I should enjoy the serenity now …