The Art of War

9PM, the house is calm; we are at stand still with the negotiations. We have recovered the hostage, a tranquil and innocent one year old boy with blue eyes the size of saucers from the gated off room. The lone holdout wants a train.
The lead negotiator moves slowly toward the room. She is a pretty woman; her curly hair is one of her defining traits. She is getting fatigued. Her once ice cold demeanor is showing cracks. I worry she doesn’t have much left before it will be my turn to try and resolve the standoff. “Listen”, the negotiator offers gently. “We can get the train set up tomorrow.”
“NO!” the once tender lawbreaker bellows from the gated off room. “NO, NOOOOO, NONONONO”
I see the negotiator about to crack, I step in. “Okay”, I softly gesture, “it is Okay, let’s do this…” I pause, there is sobbing in the gated off room, is the lone holdout breaking? Are we near the end of the madness?
We hear sobbing, the end is close.
I look at my lead negotiator. Through that glance we know what is next. The lone holdout comes out slowly from the room. We approach with caution as we prepare to storm the gated off room.
“Mommy”, my three year old daughter sobs to my wife, the lead negotiator. “Can I have some water”? “I am tired and thirsty”
“Yes, sweetie let’s go to the kitchen.” My wife answers quietly.
“Daddy, I love you” Sobs my daughter the lone hold out and the captor of her blue eyed brother.
“I love you too sweetpea”. I reply
While they stroll to the kitchen I quickly check on my son the blue eyed boy. He is sleeping. I hurry to the scene of the standoff. There isn’t much time. I have to get Thomas the tank engine and the track back in the box or we’ll never get her in bed.