After two and a half weeks of closure, and when the children found themselves doing their work, I discovered the unfamiliar feeling called privacy.

• Illustration: Ze'ev Engelmayer

1 First, I wanted to make it clear: I suffered badly from my children even when it wasn't fashionable. Second, we all live here together. Even when you must not approach, and even if you do not have small children, you probably already heard complaints like "eat and drink for us", "rob us of life", "drain our minds", "we did not register for this activity" and more.

It's hard to live with children in closure, that's right. But one day this week, on a sleepy afternoon, I found myself lying on the couch in the living room, taking a few seconds of air before something jumped out of me somewhere, and then suddenly digesting the seconds into minutes, and the unfamiliar feeling I discovered was - no, it's no mistake - privacy.

My dream has come true. The kids found an occupation that didn't include tugging at the edges of my pants. It is only after two and a half weeks of closure that one can estimate how expensive every second of silence is. You would expect me to know how to take advantage of it every second of the way, except that, almost involuntarily, I had taken over Apple and it was unclear to see what was happening with the children. So I slowly got up from the couch and glanced in their direction: each one occupied himself on the other side of their room. They both seemed very absorbed in something, with no claims to us or the world. It was an almost surreal play. At last I seemed to have a little quiet of my own.

I called a friend, and he didn't answer. Second member also. I went through the contact list on my phone, only to find that I didn't have too many people there that I wanted to talk to if I didn't have to, so I went in the fridge. There was nothing interesting there either.

On the way back to the couch I looked at the children again, who were sitting and busy with their affairs. The person I had known for the last 45 years was supposed to take quiet steps toward the living room, stealing some time alone, but suddenly I found myself leading him toward their room and asking, "Are you sure you don't need anything?"

2 One of the days of the week, no matter what, the kids had trouble falling asleep. Something about the mechanism of their internal clock was devoured by all these continuous hours at home. Suddenly I noticed that it was about midnight, and between their beds was a vigilant dialogue on "Who is stronger - Grandpa Meyer or Peter the Rabbit?"

I went into their room and tried to talk about their hearts. But children's hearts are not as soft as you would expect, so even when the numerals marking the date have changed, the dialogue remains alert as it was. At some point, Naama exhausted herself with talk and fell asleep. The cheer, which he listened to most of the time, remained fuel for another hour or two.

I told him it was morning, and he began to ask me about the difference between night and morning, and between tomorrow and day, and then all sorts of other things. I think I really got to know my kids during this intense time, just as the experts in the morning shows promised. In fact, I think I know them so well now that I deserve to be away from them for some time. There will be something to learn again.

Anyway, the child doesn't fall asleep. I moved him to our bed, but he went on with all his existential questions, which sometime, as is usually the case with existential questions, became a cry.

I didn't want to put one of his plans on him, because when he saw his plans, he became a classic Slavic vampire who didn't sleep at night, only with a peculiar affection for childish superheroes. I scoffed at everything that was on television at the time, but everything that was there - from a fish-filled aquarium to past football games - just made him cry harder.

Having already crossed the line of despair and frowned just so as not to think, he calmed down all at once. I didn't want to believe it was because I got stuck in front of "friends" for a few seconds, so I went up one channel. He returned to cry.

Now, I'm old-school. I grew up in the 1980s, and sometime towards the end of the millennium I became a version of what I am now. And I'm a "Seinfeld" man, not "friends." It used to change. I always despised the self-righteous storytelling and outrageous romantic connections that exist in this series, even if I somehow laughed it off and watched all the episodes.

And now my son has just calmed down from this gang that is sitting in the Central Park Cafe trying to solve another artificial problem. Maybe it's the recorded laughs that do it to him. Maybe Gunther. And he doesn't fall asleep, but he doesn't cry either. And we lie like that, next to each other, watching random episodes of "friends" into the wee hours of the night. God finds new ways to abuse me.

3 What's good about all this closure is the cost. After we got rid of the deliveries (there is a limit to the number of times the couple can buy the plea: "Must order, it may be the last day of the shipments"), we found that even with the cost of living like us, it is pretty cheap to stay home all day. The kids didn't really matter - even when we were at a hotel in Eilat, and under the window were attractions we paid thousands of shekels in advance, encouraged to stay in the room and watch the rescue unit for 12 consecutive hours.

What else? The long hours in the house made the spouse think deeply about everything between the four walls. Here she wants to replace tiles, name the closet, and I am already beginning to realize that when she finishes her list, it would cost me more than it would cost me a daily family pastime in Cinema City during this entire period, if the Corona had not landed on us.

4 I need my peace of mind when I work, and now I've moved to work from home. I started my day at work in the living room, but was driven away by children who were hanged on me. I moved to the bedroom, but they got there too. I went out to the smoking area outside, but the cat scratched me again and again because she feared I wanted to hurt her puppies. I moved to the back of the house, but the neighbor's peacock (yes) spread its feathers on me and drove me back to the house.

I walked into the bathroom for a few minutes of quiet. I'm currently far away from incorporating one ant from the bottom of the seat's food chain.

shishabat@israelhayom.co.il