My children have been fighting for 240 minutes. Yes, I counted. 240 or 14 thousand 400 seconds of whining and fussing about absolutely nothing. Nothing is wrong. They have food and clean clothes, a house dry from the rain and spring storms. 14 thousand 400 seconds of stressing me out. Not long ago, the sounds of distress the blister of quarrel spilled over to my feet’s edge and I would mediate over their protests a habit I had to quit in order to initiate growth