My assistant

Miranda started showing cold-like symptoms on Tuesday night, and after we were up with her three times Tuesday night with coughing episodes, we decided we'd probably better take her to the doctor and get her checked out.

When one of our kids is sick and the other is well, one of us will take the sick kid in while the other babysits the well one. Unfortunately, I needed to be at work on Wednesday morning, so I was joined midmorning by my assistant, Mr. Xavier.

At first, Mr. Xavier was a perfectly charming assistant. He wrote facts, figures, and pictures on my white board, he flirted with the receptionist, ate my snack bars, and discussed diagramming with Ash. But soon he tired of this mundane work, and he started asking for something more challenging, like working on the computer (a big NO on that one), or a thrilling rendition of that Thomas the Tank Engine classic, "Stop, Train, Stop" (okay, I gave in on that one.) Then the phone rang.

The first caller -- a customer with a problem -- heard the little voice over the phone and said, "Oh! You have an assistant today! I had my five-year-old with me on such-and-such day, and --" Nothing diffuses a potentially stressful situation by finding you have a common bond.

With the second caller -- a technical writer who was supposed to have something done for me that day and who was communicating with me from New Mexico via her hard-to-hear cell phone -- I was not so lucky. Xavier kept trying to butt in, "Mommy? Mommy! MOMMY!" until I turned to him and said, "Xav, just a minute." As I resumed my discussion with the tech writer, he uttered those six words that can inspire terror and pride simultaneously in any parent: "I need to use the potty!" At that, I had to tell the tech writer I would call her back.

I felt some relief when Miranda and Adam appeared, and more to find out she had just a cold, and I walked them out to the elevator. The doors opened. Miranda stepped in and Xavier turned to me. "Is Mommy coming with us?"

"No," my husband replied, "she needs to go back to work."

"I want to stay here and work with Mommy," Xavier said, stepping off the elevator.

"No, Xav, you need to come home with me and Miranda."

"I WANT TO STAY AND WORK WITH MOMMY!" Xavier screamed and took off running down the hall. Both Adam and I started after him until I realized that we had left our other child in the elevator and I went back to make sure it didn't leave without a parent. Adam returned with the squirming boy in his arms and hopped on the elevator; even the elevator doors were not sufficient to cut out completely the cries of "I want to stay with Mommy!"

I returned to my office, breathing a sigh of relief, enjoying the peace and quiet for a second. I picked up the phone to return a call when I start hearing a strange little sound. It has a funny rhythm to it ... I look out the window and see Adam and Miranda standing by the van three floors below me. And there was Xavier, running across the parking lot, his voice softened by the glass, screaming, "Want to work with Mommy! Want to work with Mommy!"

My husband is a saint.