"It's too quiet tonight," Gillian Daniel said in Israel's rocket-battered city of Ashkelon. "It's too quiet tonight. It makes me nervous when it's so quiet. ... The rockets follow."
It was the kind of comment some would call a premonition; others could argue it came from experience.
Daniel watched as her granddaughter Karin Malca, 3, swung on the family patio with her dog Pitzi nudging her leg.
Inside their spacious house on a leafy street in the now-deserted town, three generations of Daniel's family -- all eight members -- went about their day.
Then came the screaming, the siren and the explosion -- the sounds of the Malca family's new routine.
The family bolted to their bomb shelter. As the sirens screeched, they huddled and rocked each other in their safe room. It was about the size of a jail cell.
Daniel told ABC News that the day had been a quiet one, with about six sirens heard so far.
"You try not to show [fear] to the kids," she said.
But even the 3-year-olds like Karin know the drill all too well.
"She got straight off her bike and ran down," said Sarah Malca, whose soldier-husband has left to fight.
"That's why you can't let the kids go upstairs and do something," Daniel said.
The family doesn't dare stray farther than a 30-second sprint from the house. The sirens are all the warning they get to find shelter. They sit at home and stack blocks and watch a lot of news.
Boredom and frustration, punctuated by adrenaline.