Anyway, in the interest of power saving (ie, didn't want to cook because it was too hot) I've been feeding my children sandwiches and microwaving simple foods that don't require thought. Cereal? Awesome. Yogurt? Perfect.

It's been three days of this, so tonight, when the temperature dropped down into a normal evening range, I celebrated by baking brownies. I called my kids to come get their chunk of fudgy goodness, and my son appeared eagerly. My youngest popped around the corner right on his heels. My oldest didn't respond.

"Yoo-hoooo! Brownies!" I hollered down the hall once again. "Come get yours!"

Nothing.

"Excuse me, Princess. Your brownie is ready!"

Nothing.

I was starting to get steamed. Then I saw her exit my bedroom in slow motion. She was making a rope pulling gesture in front of her body, and awkwardly making her way down the hall, silently straining on an invisible rope. Could it be? Was this what I suspected?

Oh yes. She wasn't answering because she is now a mime. A very bad mime, who takes talking breaks, but a mime nonetheless. A mime who moves slowly, because of the invisible wall blocking her path. A mime who does things like waving her arms frantically, and then putting them on her hips and staring at you with one eyebrow raised. And then she huffs and repeats it. Six times, until both of you want to weep with frustration.

And there you are weeping from a combination of frustration and mirth, when she takes an abrupt talking break, and says "I am a crab fisherman" before frantically waving her arms once again, and then returning to her hands on hips stance.

This new mime thing has wowed the little kids - my son and my youngest will no doubt start miming things for me to weep at. If I have to choose between suffering through countless undecipherable mime routines based on obscure occupations or listening to bickering, I'm leaning towards the art of mime.

In fact, I'm going to brush up on my imaginary box skills, to uncork during time-outs. Oh no, children. You are trapped in a box. See? Here is the top! Here are the sides! Oh! Whatever will you do? You must silently struggle inside that box until the timer goes off. See, I'm pointing at my wrist to indicate a timer. See?

I'm so clever.

Then, of course, I can also frantically wave my hands around and then put my hands on my hips and raise an eyebrow. They will guess that I'm a crab fisherman, but I'll silently shake my head no, and repeat. Only I will know that I'm playing a frazzled mother, calling her children to come get brownies.