Take Serious Things Seriously

My grandson is suffering Murray-withdrawal, and I need to be thankful that he is going through it in California, not here. However, I am missing the patter of tiny... excuse me, size 4 feet POUNDING from one end of my house to the other, either in pursuit of Murray or Murray in pursuit of any illumination from one of many flashlights here, along with Kate either following or tottering unsteadily in her own direction.

However, I think I spoke more with my daughter on the phone today that any single conversation we had while they were here - any conversation in my home was punctuated with "Colin, put that down" or "Kate, stop poking the dog" or "Whose turn is it to change a diaper" or "No, I've had enough turkey / pie mashed potatoes / stuffing and my stomach is going to explode any second."

It is nice to be able to sleep in my own bed, and have the cat back home. Pandora wasted no time re-establishing himself as head-honcho of the gang and securing his regular spots on my bed, the freezer, and under my feet while I am on the computer. He has completely forgiven me for taking him to the kennel - or perhaps he is just so happy to be sprung from the place this morning.