Personal space

I want it. I need it. This morning, I'm sitting at my computer, and someone's at my elbows as I type (that little 4 year old someone isn't tall enough to peer over shoulders yet). "Give me a little room, Camille." Later this morning, I'm in the shower, and Nathan bursts through the bathroom door. "Can Mommy have a little privacy while she's showering?" He retreats but not without asking the question he came for. Dinnertime, two fussy babies finally calmed, and Camille saunters over and pleads with her big brown eyes: "Can I sit on your lap?" Now, bedtime nears, I sneak into the office to check email and blog if I'm lucky, and the kids migrate around me. "Ry, this is when I need you to take care of getting the kids ready for bed." He insists, "That's what I'm doing." No, actually, he's at his computer, and I need him barricading the door!

Better luck next time.