and there went two hours of quiet chat, a very respectable pair of blushes and a rather nice peach Greek yogurt. (Thanks, L) And grass, and a guy in Revolutionary garb, and oh, was that a mom from the Eldest's school, wearing a bonnet and - no - hoop skirts? Funky.
Did I mention that there were trees? Grass?
And I'm driving home with the Toddles, who is opening his car-friendly lunch. He sees the note I've tucked inside, and puzzles out the words. I help: Toddles, I love you! - Mummy
Oh, says the Toddles, thoughtfully. That makes sense. (I cock an eyebrow at him from the front seat.) Sense, clarifies the Toddles, like it's possible. (I wait, stifling giggles. He re-reads the note.) Yes. That makes sense.
I love you too, Mummy.
and the boys are splashing in the BigFamousClever University's pool near our home, somehow having managed to collect the Eldest and leave the school parking lot in under 10 minutes. How? I have no idea. Possibly by using the same pixie dust that now has the Eldest zooming across the pool. Long, straight strokes of the arm - then a few slightly panicky short ones - and the kid pops up to breathe, gifting me with a lovely, gaptoothed grin. Look, Mom! What did you think of that?
As it happens, I think a great deal of that. And I tell him so, delightedly, while fishing the Toddles out of deepish water.
and the boys are asleep after a hilarious Tanith Lee short story, the dishes are mostly in the dishwasher and the Man walks in the door. A wee trigger in my brain responds: exhale now?
But at some point in the day, I realize, I'd already done so.