I'm at my Garden Home house. My wife (perhaps Natasha) has just left for work, and I'm left with a small toddler, and he's crying and in need of attendance, and I have to go to work too.

Then I go out in the living room, and there is another kid out there, but a smaller child, less than a year old. He's rolled out of his chair, he's crying, hungry, and needs to be cleaned up because his face is all covered with milk. I don't understand why my wife left, she should be here to breast-feed him.

I start to clean him up, and I have to go into the kitchen to rinse out the washrag, and when I come back in the living room, there is a guy sitting near the window with a number of boxes in his lap.

"What are you doing in here?", I half-yell, "I didn't say you could come in!"

"Oh, sorry, sorry," he says, getting up with his packages, "my mistake."

I see him to the door, but he starts walking out of the yard, and I ask him what he's doing, what was he here for anyway? He tells me he's just delivering the mail. I apologize for yelling at him, telling him about the two kids I got left with, and I have to go to work.