Over the Christmas break we had planned for our little family to spend a few days with my parents before heading home again. As it turned out, Otto and I ended up going to see my folks without the kids, which was sorely disappointing all around.
(It turns out that I am just not very interesting now that there are a couple of pint-sized versions of me who are a lot funnier than I am.)
After a bit of cajoling, my dad and stepmom planned a trip down here to visit us. They did so at no small inconvenience, too—yesterday afternoon my father called from a Chili’s in the Detroit airport to let me know that their connecting flight had been canceled. I felt tremendously sorry for them, being stuck in Detroit, of all places, and suggested medicinal margaritas while they waited for their rescheduled flight.
When the kids got home from school, they came flying in, asking when Grandma and Grandpa would be here. I had to break the news to them that the schedule had been changed somewhat, and they were Not Pleased. “I think they’ll still be here before you go to bed,” I offered. “Don’t worry.”
They then proceeded to run around in circles until I kicked them outside to go play.
I continued working, listening by the door occasionally to verify that they were still around, and after a long while they came running back into the garage, dirty-kneed and glowing, insisting that I come outside with them.
“Look what we did!” commanded Chickadee.
“We are having a party on the driveway!” giggled Monkey.
Happy Love Thursday, everyone! May you know the love that gets your hands dirty, your knees scratched up, and your face all smudgy.