This weekend Goober & Goobrette’s parents took off for a few days, leaving Stan and I in charge of two almost-three-year-olds and the cat. They got home sometime in the small hours this morning; when I woke up at five to six I checked to see that their car was indeed in the driveway, and then gathered my things and snuck out of the house like an escaping convict.
Not that it went poorly. It was fun. We took the kids to church yesterday, where they were extremely well behaved and had fun (“My play toys!”) — although I note that receiving a blessing at communion did not go down so well: “My scared of the man,” Goobrette confessed on the way home. And as someone at church told us, “I don’t know how you got your instant family there, but I like it.”
Heck, I like it too. Turns out I especially like having another adult with me the whole time — yesterday I was able to just go upstairs and take a nap without worrying that it was five pm, or that the kids were up and about, or that technically they’re paying me to be awake during the day. Stan was awake, so all was well. And then I napped, and there was much rejoicing.
All the same, I was pretty eager to come home this morning. I live just fifteen minutes away on foot,
and so by twenty after six I was in my own bed, which, for the record, is way more comfortable than what they’ve got going on over there. I got to see Stan before he left for work, and eat my own food for breakfast.
I do have to get back there for eleven — but I’m glad to be here, now.