Not the kind of silence that is not quite silence in between two bits of a conversation where you can still just hear toys moving about. No, the kind of silence that makes you, as a parent, imagine the worst. Like: a maniac has broken into the house and killed the children but left you alive as some kind of sick joke. Or: somehow you left a gas ring on the previous evening and, despite the fact that your dearest spouse managed to get through the kitchen to leave for work earlier, the children have gone downstairs and immediately been gassed to death. Or: they ran themselves a bath and got in to play but all drowned because nobody was watching them. And somehow one of these things has happened without anybody making a single sound to wake the lightest sleeping person in the house.
So, heart in mouth, I leg it downstairs. And discover this:
Absolute silence.
We brought new lego back from my parents house last night. I say new, it's not new at all - it was all mine when I was little - but it's new to them.
I insisted that they get dressed, eat some breakfast and do their book reviews...
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