The Quiet Hour tells the story of a harried mom whose 4–year–old son who thrust a paper–towel tube in her hand, and challenged her to a swordfight. He tossed his security–blanket cape behind his back and assumed the position of a would–be musketeer. Distracted by her own personal battle with coupons scattered across the table, she simply held the sword in her hand as she continued her scavenger hunt for any overlooked savings. In response to the whacks of her son’s bigger sword, she half–heartedly waved her own in his general direction.

Suddenly, his pressed his little palms against her face to be sure she was looking him in the eye.

“Mom,” he said, “you have to act like you believe.”