The troops returned over the weekend. I was the mom bouncing up and down at the exit, wildly waving her arms at anyone who, at a distance, even remotely looked like my family. The security guards shifted uncomfortably and exchanged glances, thinking about closing in. My family showed up in the nick of time, complete with teenage how-could-you-embarrass-us-like-this faces. That’s enough anti-terrorist reassurance to make even an international airport guard drift away.
I welcomed home 3 people and their house guests. Unfortunately, they’d been spotted as possible petri dishes by evil little colds. Eviction is going to take a militarily-strict timetable of cough medicine pouring, pill handing, temperature checking, and lap holding.
Let’s hope the evil colds do not figure out I’m unoccupied territory and jump ship.
Christmas was so excited he ate something we may need to retrieve through xrays and veterinary intervention. We’ll know in 24 hours.
No cries of:
Mommmmmmm…I can’t find my [fill in the blank], I think I left it [on the plane, at Aunt Teebees, in the rental car]. Do we hafta have [fill in the blank] for dinner…again?
I was so ready to whip out my Super Hero Finder Cape, and plunge headlong into the hazardous waste content of suitcases and carry on’s, and find the absolutely completely and totally gone… FOR SURE this time [fill in the blank].
Freedom is over-rated. Superhero-dom, ruckus, eye rolling, hysterical giggling, snuggling, and cranky remarks…ah. Home.