We're home, as for 2 am last night, and the place overfloweth with bags (the Man's approach to packing is to toss things into bags, regardless of size. Effective, but yee-haw! our duffel multiplies itself thusly into seventeen cloth shopping bags, and where are the toothbrushes?) but not laundry (the Grandmere's approach to grandchildren is to make enthusiastic use of the washing machine. Sometimes on the children.).
And a list of things to do. Bake muffins, according to a very very specific recipe. Buy pizza. Buy calipers and measure out the Eldest's amounts of these foods. These he shall have, to those degrees, and no more.
Take the boys to their very first swimming lesson.
And breathe. In, out. In, out.
The air is the same, even if the ground has become oddly gelatinous underfoot.