parenting – Lori's Life and Other Stuff

Code Red

The school had had an active shooter practice drill a couple of weeks ago. My daughter was in class, but students were working in groups and didn’t hear the announcement that it was just a drill. She thought it was real and texted me. She was upset the rest of the day. We talked about it, let her vent. She took a bath, got a good night’s sleep. We carried on as we do.

I remember watching the coverage of Columbine as it was happening. Kids just a few years younger than myself crying, streaming out of the school. I watched the screen, horrified. How can this be real? How is this happening?

24 years later, I get the text that we all dread as parents. “Mom. School is in lockdown. I don’t think it’s a drill this time.” After a few minutes, I get the text from the district that the school is in lockdown, police are on site and we are not to come to the school.

I went to the school.

I didn’t care. And neither did 50-60 other parents. We parked away from the school, out of the way of police, of course, but there is no way I’m NOT coming to the school to get my kids if need be. After the police had cleared the campus an hour and a half later, parents were allowed on campus to get their kids if needed. There was a call that was taken seriously, but later turned out to be a prank that set this whole thing in motion. My daughter called me, and through her tears said she wanted to stay at school to be with her friends and finish the day. I don’t know if that was the right thing. Maybe I should have taken her and her brother out for the rest of the day. I let her take the lead and told her she knew herself and how she felt and that if that’s what she wanted to do, that was fine. I went to sit in my car for a minute to calm down.

I’m so sick of this.

I’m sick of teachers having to comfort kids, protecting their students with their own life, all while teaching the subjects they are passionate about and getting underpaid for the privilege of doing so.

It is madness. How is this normal?!

Tonight we ordered take out and ate dinner. Hannah and I went on a lovely evening hike afterward. We left our phones at home and climbed a couple of hills overlooking the valley where we live. A hike doesn’t fix the big stuff in days like today, but it felt good to get fresh air, get some elevation, say some gratitude prayers and clear our minds. Hannah wanted to go a little further and have some solo time, so I waited below and saw her tiny silhouette on top of the ridge with both hands raised. I mirrored her, raising my arms up in a V, witnessing her summit. She made her way back down and we walked home. Tomorrow counselors will be available, as will therapy dogs. Ironically the dogs were supposed to be on campus today, but of course had to be rescheduled. They will likely be well loved tomorrow.

I write when I have things that need to come out of me. Hannah sings to the ocean or to the mountains. She whacks golf balls. We both like to hike. She also writes. She penned a heartbreaking poem tonight and asked me to share it. It’s called Code Red.

Code Red
We all feel dread
Barricade the door
And secure the floor

Drill or no?
We feel so low
Hide behind a table
But it doesn’t feel stable

My tears keep flowing
Can’t stop sobbing
Can we keep going?
Wait and wait behind the desk
It all just feels like such a mess

15 minutes now
Teachers say it’s okay!
But we know the truth.
Although we are the youth,
We know.
It doesn’t take a sleuth
Or even just a clue
To know that this isn’t a drill.

I hug my friends and cry,
It feels like we’re about to die.
And in this moment I am just helpless
All I can do is wait.

It’s been 30 minutes now.
Feels like a million.
My tears continue flowing and there is no stop to them.
Nothing to do but hide,
Nothing to do but cry.

Cannot leave
Just can’t breathe
All I wanna do is grieve

It’s been 45.
At least we’re still alive!
Stay quiet
Cannot make a riot

Hoping that my friends will be okay
Texting them to see what they say
I hate today.

Breathe in and out.
Without a doubt
It was just a hoax
Someone who has jokes

One long hour.
Just so sour.
Everyone was okay.
At least they said
because of this code red.

Living through a nightmare
Like all my bad dreams
All of these streams of tears.
Gleams of hope
But still no joke

Feel like I’m going to explode,
Just a load of bull
Because of a 911 call.
And in this world
I feel so small.

Hannah S.

Hair…and more

I was listening to Glennon Doyle’s podcast and in one episode they were discussing all things recovery and rules and the parameters we set for ourselves, as well as those set for us by cultural norms and practices.

They discussed wanting to do, or not do a thing, such as dyeing one’s hair, buying a scarf, always wanting the latest thing (whatever that might be), and even just wanting in general – and how those things can tie into consumerism and the impossible standards espoused by the beauty industry. (Men going grey = silver fox, while when women do it, it’s ‘she’s let herself go’ and other such nonsense.) While not all of it resonated, when they got to the topic of going grey vs. continuing to dye hair as an example, I paused and listened intently.

I stopped dying my hair in late 2017 shortly after getting sober. Chopped off all of my hair super short – an outward symbol of inward changes. It’s now been a few years and I still have zero desire to ever head back to the colorist. No judgment to those that love getting highlights, doing dramatic amazing things with color – that’s just not what I am wanting for myself right now.

The salon I go to for trims caters to curlies. They cut hair dry, coil by coil, so each curl clump lays within the next, creating beautiful ringlets and overall amazing shape. And bonus- when cut dry there is little chance of underestimating curl shrinkage! Win!

Products for curlies have come a looong way. Playing with the phone camera post-appointment and seeing the definition made me smile.

I thought back to my middle and high school days. “Thank goodness for the internet,” I murmured to myself thinking of all the products and techniques tried over the last couple of decades, as well as the days when there were no products. My daughter now benefits from YouTube tutorials and tips on how to take care of her own mane of waves.

One particular ringlet stopped me. And I remembered that podcast discussion of going grey…

I wasn’t always ready for the grey. I used to yank out the single silver strands when one or maybe two would sprout. I liked the definition highlights gave. The grey is coming in more and more, and…I love it. Listening to that podcast solidified my decision to skip sitting in the stylist’s seat for hours. I love the rebellion it represents. The “I don’t care” attitude sliding down it’s rings. The flinging off of convention. The grey swims upstream, against the current of brown surrounding it. “See me?” it boldly asks. The grey is a gift, a symbol of living that not all receive. The experience of the grey demands respect, has earned its confidence, and smiles mischievously.

Ultimately – what one does (or doesn’t) do to their hair is their business. What my overall aim is – is to be mindful of the bigger picture in what my actions teach my kids, and is it authentic? Are they comfortable in their own skin? Do they accept themselves as is, or do they fight against nature? No amount of words speak so loud as my actions. We teach not by preaching, but by modeling. If I embrace who and what I am – that teaches them to celebrate who and what they are.

Sometimes a haircut…is more than just a haircut.

Time

14 years ago today we welcomed our first child and it feels like 1000 years ago and yesterday all at once. Time is elusive and crafty, bending and warping depending on perspective and hindsight. In just 4 years, my tiny chubby-cheeked baby will be a legal adult. (Seriously?!) My brain sees the little baby, the toddler I taught to throw away his own diapers, the first days of preschool, and then kindergarten. The onslaught of contradictory evidence is shoved in my face daily, (so rude!) with shadowy hairs on his upper lip, a startling ever-deepening voice, and his height. The fact that he has shot up is one of great pride for him. He loves to remind me each week musing, “Hey, we should measure me…,” with a mischievous glint in his eye, waiting for my eye roll.

I feel breathtakingly fortunate. Not that life with middle schoolers is a cake walk – because whoa. It’s rough out there, people! When talking with other parents (I’ve seen people do this when talking about their spouse, too), so often it devolves into a vent session about dumb stuff their kids have done, or what irritates them. It’s like a contest of whose spouse/kid is the worst. Feeling out of place in those conversations, I don’t contribute when chat goes in that direction. (Even if I did feel that way about them, why would I publicly complain about them?) I don’t get it. If I met them randomly, I would actually like them. For that, I am grateful.

Pictures of babes wrapped up in baby burritos are fun to look at once in a while, but I am not a person who yearns for early days of parenting. Those long monotonous days were hard, yo. Diapers, dishes, and deployments on repeat were long, not to mention the sleep deprivation. Love the memories, glad to have been present in them, but find like with most phases of the kids’ development, I revel in where they are right now. I dig their personalities, their sarcastic senses of humor, and hearing their perspectives on what’s going on in their lives.

While not pining for some mythical ‘good ole days’, I do find the phrase, “Slow down….just a bit,” whispered more frequently lately, as a prayer to Time that insists on marching forward.

Yellow Orbs

Settling into our new home, we’ve been taking the dogs on early morning and later evening walks. The sun of course bakes the asphalt during the heat of the day, so walking at cooler times works best. (I love that yellow orb in the sky! So delightfully warm compared to the PNW, and not the intense humidity of South Texas.) Each walk we inevitably pass by a house down the road from us that has a gorgeous lemon tree. When we have driven by it, I have commented on how sad the lemons on the ground were and that I wondered if they gave them away to neighbors if they weren’t going to use them.

I must have mentioned the lemons enough times to exasperate the kids. “Why don’t you just go ask them?” they inquired, curious as to why I wouldn’t just go knock on the door of a random stranger and ask for some of their fruit.

“Um, because my skin would peel off of my bones and I might die,” I replied incredulously, envisioning worst case scenarios of being yelled at to get off someone’s lawn or some other such horror. We all laughed as we again affirmed that both my husband and daughter are the family extroverts that keep my son and I out and doing things, and we keep them semi-grounded with our homebody-ness.

Formulating a game plan for our next dog walk – we planned, in fact, to knock on the door of a stranger and ask for some of their fruit.

Our street is a giant hill that ends in a cul-de-sac, so it’s a great workout. In the shadow of the hills behind the house, we get cool evenings and delightful sunsets. We’ve seen countless giant monarch butterflies, geckos and my favorite jacaranda and palm trees. I love living in a place where purple trees grow. I love living where the citrus grows. I had forgotten how fresh and delicious produce here is year round. We had a watermelon the other day that both my son and I claim is the best one we’ve ever had. (Though we will keep eating all the melons to make sure!)

We rounded the corner, them on the side of the street with the lemon house, me with the dogs on the opposite side of the street with the doggos, primed and ready to keep walking and pretend I don’t know them if needed. Knocking on the door, they see a little sign noting lemons for sale with a money box beside it. Eric chatted with the lemon purveyor for a bit, then joined up with me holding not only lemons, but a long box. Lemon Purveyor and my husband had a nice chat about moving to the area recently and loving the neighborhood and thanks for the lemons and all the small talk. Somehow new to the area means “Thanks for buying some lemons, here’s a bonus, too!”

They reach me with lemons as big as my face that smell incredible! Eric laughs as he shows me the box is a pack of lightbulbs and shrugs his shoulders and we carry on our walk.

Today after a morning swim, farmer’s market fun, and other errands, we whipped up a batch of scratch lemonade that was liquid perfection.

Our closet lights also got switched to brighter, free bulbs! Not bad for an evening stroll with the dogs.

What a Year!

The kids have the same English teacher at our school. All year long they have a weekly contest called “Giggles”. This contest involves writing a sentence and correctly placing all commas. First one done wins for that week. At the end of the year, the student with the most wins becomes a “Comma Master” and earns a ‘fancy crown’ 👑 and the glory of having their name on a poster for future classes to aspire to/admire. I have been hearing about Giggles all year long.

To know my minions is to know their competitive nature. 🥴 To know Jake is to know that he is a hair splitting, precise, rule enforcer. When in a game/competition setting, not only is he competitive, but has struggled with good sportsmanship when he is not the winner. Mrs. Hall and I chatted often at the beginning of the year. 🤣

While it may have been a bumpy start, over the course of the year Jake has grown in his language arts abilities, as well as becoming a better team player and gracious when games did not go his way. Mrs. Hall gave all her students hand-written, personal notes encouraging them and wishing them all a great summer. Jacob’s included how proud she was of his growth in this area.

This teacher also expanded the winners circle to include 2nd place this year. 1st place is a Comma Sensei, 2nd place is a Comma Master. Hannah was the sensei of her class, Jacob was the comma master. Of course he realizes it’s a silly contest and a simple Burger King paper crown. The fact that he stayed engaged and kept trying, even after he had calculated that there were not enough weeks left in the year for him to win 1st place, is sort of a big deal. And a huge deal that Mrs. Hall recognized and rewarded that effort.

I have said it before, and I will say it again: I. Love. Teachers! Thank you! Thank you for seeing them and meeting them where they are. You are making a difference!

It’s a bittersweet year as we are moving out of state. Though the goodbyes as a military family have been frequent, they are never easy, especially for my tender hearted daughter. (Luckily this *should* be the last one!) Some of her classmates are military kids, but many are not. I was so incredibly touched when Hannah showed me a project they all worked on as a going away gift.

They all got together, printed out pictures, made a collage board for her, signing personal notes at the bottom. Be still my Mama heart!

Their class also did fun superlatives. Jacob was voted “Most Likely to be a Mad Scientist” and Hannah was “Most Likely to Star in a Movie”

Hannah and her friends also exchanged little gifts ❤️

The see you laters and the goodbyes just suck. It’s hard and sad and all the feelings. One thing the goodbyes bring is a deep appreciation for authentic friendships and a boldness in expressing their affection for one another. I have been so fortunate to have had such friendships and am grateful that my kids have been loved well by their friends.

Rejuvenation

“There is magic in the presence of trees,” I mused, inhaling the damp freshness surrounding us. Walking in our rain boots through the lush forest, my daughter happily chatting to her art teacher, I took as many mental images as my senses could hold. I left my phone back in the car when we pulled up (silly me).

This teacher is more than a teacher to Hannah – she’s her FAVORITE. “Mom! Mrs. O’Connor has a real studio!” she exclaimed at the beginning of her first art class last year. “She’s a teacher AND a REAL artist!” We were able to see her work in a local art show last fall and she graciously invited Hannah to come see her studio. To say that Hannah was excited was an understatement.

After the studio tour, Mrs. O’Connor took us all around her lovely space, surrounded by acres of forest land. (Half way through our walk, we stopped and grabbed our cameras!) Having lived here for a few decades, she can imagine living no where else – and it’s clear to see why! It really was a slice of heaven – and a rejuvenating day spent captivated by Mother Nature’s spell.

Teachers: never doubt the impact you have on your students. Read that again: Please do not doubt that you are impacting your students in ways you may never know. (Seriously the last couple of years – whew!) From this mama to one very special art teacher – I thank you especially for taking the time and sharing your gifts. You are a treasure!

When Dad Buys You Lemons…

“Can I go with you to the grocery store? I have a list.”

“Uhhh, okay,” I responded from the shower. “What did you need to buy?” I asked.

“Lemons, sugar, a pitcher, cups, and straws. PLEASE Mom! Please! I have always wanted to do this. It’s summer….”

She’d been asking to do a lemonade stand for quite a while. Like 5 years awhile. Maybe longer. I’ve put her off for various reasons. She was too young (read: I’d have to do all the work), we were busy or had other plans that weekend, whatever. The timing just never seemed right.

Me, thinking, “Well, I don’t see why not. We aren’t camping this weekend and there isn’t much going on. I think we can make that work.”

(Insert squeals of delight and frantic planning mode turned way up).

After getting items from her list, and 10 lemons (surely that should be plenty) we set up shop in the front yard, complete with canopy and “decor lemons” and her eye-catching poster:

She could barely sit still. Her excitement was met with a very supportive military community. Lots of friends and neighbors came by to grab a glass of Lil’ Miss’ yummy recipe. Great teachable moments sprinkled throughout the afternoon and evening, including the difference between sales and profit, costs of doing business, supplies, and record keeping. Live, hands on examples that will likely stick with her longer than just talking about abstract concepts.

Running out of lemons, I zipped to the store to grab 10 more! She went through pitcher after pitcher! (And multiple batches of simple syrup.) She decided to set up for Saturday as well. Lucky for her, Dad did a bit of shopping!

“Thank you thank you thank you! This is amazing!” she hollered, dancing around the kitchen. “We are going to have lemonade for dayyyyyys!” Turning serious for a moment, she said, “Seriously though, Mom, I want you to know I am super grateful. This is going to be sooooo FUN!”

I stopped in my tracks. “Who is this kid?” I thought. I remember playing and eating candy at 10 years old, not being grateful! Ha!

Saturday morning, she walked out saying she had “THE PERFECT SHIRT”! I turned around to see her in what is actually the perfect shirt for a lemonade stand.

Those with kids and bleeding ears have likely heard The Duck Song.

In case you haven’t heard it, here it is for your listening pleasure 😂 My kids still think it’s hilarious.

She sold lemonade all day Saturday and went through 52 lemons! 🤯 We have a pitcher leftover, but we aren’t mad about that! It’s quite tasty. My kitchen looks like a yellow bomb went off, but it smells delightfully fresh! Luckily the mosquitoes that are notoriously awful in our area weren’t too bad. To be sure, Eric sprayed the front yard with yard spray hours before her set up to allow for enough time for it to dry. We battled wasps and hornets (not to mention fears) and ended up moving her stand to the other side of the driveway to get away from what we think may be a nest in a tree.

Surviving the insects, we talked about all kinds of things, idle moments that generated top of mind musings as well as deeper conversations. The lemonade stand served as a vehicle to just be together with minimal distractions. There was a time when I never would have had the energy, or honestly the desire, to do anything like this. While I was drinking this would have been a no-go. I am so thankful for these reminders of my why. I love being present with them just to chat – about the mundane, what they are thinking about, their thoughts about different situations – all of it.

Who knew a little lemonade stand could be more than just some tasty beverages?!

Unexpected

Post-PCS move, all the boxes are unpacked. The paper (oh so much paper) has been meticulously straightened and folded and packed into one giant box by my equally meticulous husband. (I’m more of a shove it in a box and pack it down type, but whatever.) We have offered it all to others in the neighborhood who are getting ready for their next move.

This is my favorite space. The just after we are settled and unpacked space. Where everything has a place, things no longer needed have been donated, and it’s another 2.5 years before we have to even think about moving again. We have all the hooks in the hallway, shoe racks placed, kids’ rooms decorated and it feels like home.

I sip my steaming hot freshly poured hot cup of coffee and gaze contentedly out the windows that offer a peekaboo view of the San Juan islands and the Puget Sound. It’s still foggy, gray and rainy as the Pacific Northwest usually is in February. My dad asked me recently, “I thought you hated the rain?” Honestly, I thought I did, too.

I am in such a different space than I was the last time we lived here. The kids no longer require my assistance in such things as getting dressed. They are far more independent. We are not in the midst of deployments. We live in a relatively quiet military town – a far cry from the busy-ness (and sunshine) of Southern California. I try to cherish each phase as we move through them, but I’m completely immersing myself in this one. My not-so-tiny-anymore humans are hilarious people and I find myself marveling at their quick wits and quirky senses of humor. Savoring their curiosity and cultivating their love of learning is a calling I never envisioned. I never thought in a million years life would take the turns it has. If you would have told me I would be a vegetarian, homeschooling, 3-dog lover, nature-craving, letting-my-hair-go-grey-naturally, insatiable consumer of books, teetotaler I would have laughed out loud at the ridiculousness of that image.

But here I am in the midst of the unexpectedness of it all and I am loving every dang bit of it. Okay, maybe that’s the coffee talking because let’s face it, not every day is bliss. A week ago I dragged the minions to a hike at one of my favorite trails by the water and they complained THE ENTIRE TIME. “It’s tooooo coooooollllldddddd….” (complete with whining voice) and “Are we done with this yet? I’m bored,” they complained long and loudly. Granted I was a smidge unprepared. We should have dressed a little more warmly, and maybe ventured out during a little later (and warmer) part of the day. Between my pushing of mandatory-family-fun and their reluctance and complaining it was a ~~shit-show~~ less than stellar outing.

Contrasted with this week’s adventure, it was night and day. We played giant chess in the sprinkles that wouldn’t quite become rain. I found joy in the usual spots. The kids drank from a camping spout.

Interspersed with the unexpected-joy-nugget types of family fun, I have no doubts they will be sprinkled with “less than stellar outings” from time to time. But that’s the point isn’t it, to expect the unexpected?

trying new things

consuming viewpoint-altering books

the beauty of rain

sobriety

raising kind (most of the time) and compassionate humans

And perhaps embrace it all.

Gratitude, Always

There is tired, and then there’s tired. The kind of tired you feel when you have done way more than there is time for, more than you’d planned, and are sleep deprived on top of it all. It’s the kind of tired you feel when you have to tuck your chin down, keep your feet moving and focus only on the task in front of you.

“Just one more thing. Just get through this,” I told myself as I daydreamed of sleep, looking forward to when this was all over. The truck was getting packed, little by little. The ultimate adult Tetris game being playing by my master-packer husband as oddly shaped belongings filled tiny niches here and there. I wondered as we do every move about the necessity of so much stuff.

For a person who really doesn’t like moving (and the associated stress), it’s ironic that we are a military family. There are aspects about it that I do enjoy; the setting up of a new house, arranging things, and the adventure of it . The part I detest? The packing and the cleaning of the old house. All the nitty gritty cleaning – baseboards, windows, blinds, and ovens. Not my favorite at all.

This move is hitting our little deep-feeler daughter hard. She is very melancholy, expressing her desire to go back to Texas as that is the only home she really remembers. I comfort her the best I can and remind her that it’s okay to feel yucky and whatever which way she feels about all of this. That feelings are what they are and the best way to get through these patches is to just wade right into them and feel them. You can’t avoid the bitter-sweetness, the frustration, and the sadness. The only way is to go through.

Our last night in the mostly-empty house, we did what we usually do. We read a bit of our book, currently book 3 of The Chronicles of Narnia. As I finished, nestled between 2 kids and 3 dogs in our king bed, both kiddos wanted to chat instead of the usual pleading of ‘just one more chapter!’

“What do you want to talk about?” I asked.

“The move,” my daughter quietly replied. The volume of her voice inversely proportionate to the weight of what’s on her heart and mind.

Ever putting the positive spin on hard things, I reminded myself of what I’d explained to her earlier, that the only way through hard things, is to go through them.

“Okay, how about this,” I prompted, “What if we start by each saying 3 things that really suck about moving?”

“YES!!!” they both giggled and begged to be the first to rattle off their yuck list. Hannah asked to swear out loud once. Why not? If that’s how you feel, get it out!

Their frustrations and heartaches vented, as well as mine, we moved on to our gratitude list, things we are thankful for or that give us comfort. All of us agreed the dogs are at the top of that list. Jacob was thankful for his computer and Minecraft, as always. Hannah snuggled in close and ticked off her list.

Exhausting their lists, it was my turn. My over-tired mind contemplated the things I was grateful for. There were so many things. “I’m thankful for the way homeschooling has opened up our schedule to more flexibility,” I began. “I love that no matter what four walls surround us, be it a hotel room, a new house in a different state, home is where the 7 of us are.” They nodded their agreement.

As they drifted off to the last sleep in our house, I was thinking of the tiny little rambler that fit us so well. The morning sun I’d marveled at as it streamed in across the floor each morning, the proximity to the beach, walking paths lined with jacaranda trees and birds of paradise, and a large back yard for the dogs flooded my sleepy brain. A hardworking husband that continued packing well into the wee hours of the night, the ability to see that we were making progress, and the knowledge that this phase doesn’t last forever all came to mind.

“Thank you,” I whispered to the quiet house. “Thank you.”

Unexpected Magic

We’ve been planning this trip ever since we knew we’d be living this close. As we entered the gates and I saw the spires of the castle, the familiar characters, the Christmas carols playing over the sound system, I was overwhelmed.

It’s been 30 years since I’ve been here.

There is magic here. Beyond excited to see the happiest place on earth through the eyes of the minions, the hubby and I vowed not to be impatient, rushed and simply go at their pace.

Don’t let the picture fool you, there were plenty of moments depicting the exact opposite😜

Lil Miss wanted desperately to ride Splash mountain. After the 50 ft drop, and being soaked, both were crying and screaming. (We will accept our Parent of the Year award shortly.)

After calming them down, reassuring them that they’d never have to ride another roller coaster, we got to see Santa! Soaking wet of course…

Isn’t it weird visiting places you experienced as a kid? Neighborhoods and houses you thought were huge seem so small viewed through adult eyes. Floods of memories came rushing back through Toad’s Wild Ride and spinning crazily on Tea Cups. Even though I am now an adult (at least most of the time), the whole place still looms large. What I didn’t expect, was the magic of the mouse to hit me quite so hard.

“I think most of all what I want **Disneyland** to be is a happy place…where parents and children can have fun…together.” – Walt Disney

We didn’t get to see everything, but what we did experience was awesome. Planting the seeds of magic through the Haunted Mansion and Pirates of the Caribbean, it will be fun to hear what the kids remember from this trip. I’ll remember the kindness of the cast in giving us extra services for Lil Man’s sensory and autism issues. The kiosks where we could ask for a return time for an attraction were a Godsend – and every single time they were courteous, informative and genuine.

I will also remember that my own slight disappointment at not making it to the fireworks wasn’t the end of the world. (The minions were so worn out.) The picture in my mind of our family vacation didn’t need to be replicated precisely in reality. It was wonderful – as it was. Back at the hotel, the kids zoned out and Hubby and I popped upstairs to the fitness center that overlooked the park. The fireworks lit up the sky just as I knew they would in spectacular fashion.

“Thank you,” I whispered to him, and to the unexpected magic. Standing there in our pajamas, there was no place that I would rather be.

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