His eyes flashed with anxiety. What is the whirring sound coming from the living room? They asked.
My eight-month-old looked to me for reassurance. “It’s okay,” I said. “Daddy is vacuuming.”
Immediately, the words sank deep into my soul. The lesson I was trying to teach my son is one I needed to hear myself. Daddy holds the vacuum.
At two-and-a-half feet tall, a towering four-foot purple vacuum with the word Shark written on the front seems to threaten your very existence. It might just suck you up along with the dust bunnies on the rug.