This morning found me and Sophie eating breakfast in front of a roaring fire. Not quite as idyllic as it seems; the fire was because we have a crazy woodpecker in our neighborhood that loves to awaken us by pecking on the metal chimney of our fireplace. Every morning for the past week or so Paul's had to throw some newspapers on and smoke him out; it's the only way to make the woodpecker leave. "Who's laughing now, woodpecker?" he has been known to comment gleefully. For some reason two newspapers weren't enough this morning so a real fire was going. I sat cross-legged in front of it with Sophie on my lap, the only way I could get her to stop fussing. I was trying valiantly to eat a bowl of cereal and bananas without getting any on her, and amazingly, we both got through breakfast without mishap. But it's an example of the extreme juggling act my life has become: woodpeckers, laundry up to here, getting up to feed a baby who decides 3 a.m. is the perfect time to play... bananas, indeed. But I am trying to enjoy every second of it; enjoying Sophie's company, happy that at least the woodpecker's not pecking on the house, listening in the deep silence of the early morning to hear Sophia trying to talk. I'll take it.