Sunday, November 29, 2015
Today I am grateful for the honesty of children. We are on the road, heading towards home today, exhausted, happy and 400 pounds heavier. . .including the poor car which has unloaded stuff we brought and loaded stuff we got here a dozen times.
I am weary of channeling the Joad family from “The Grapes of Wrath” and ready to be home where things are in place and reasonable order. Don’t get me wrong. I loved every minute of our visits in the various locations. All were fun. All were happy. All were welcome.
But it wasn’t until my youngest grandson who is eight, had a mini-meltdown from sheer exhaustion on Friday that I realized how beat I was. He’s a great kid, who handles just about anything as long as he’s not tired, or hungry, but mostly tired. Then he crashes in demo-derby destruction just like his dad did before him and no amount of reason will help. Just space and sleep.
I wished I was eight a few times during this trip, so that I could throw my head back in full drama, let out a few wails, followed by projectile tears and flop myself to the ground in exhaustion. Gotta love the pure honest emotions of children. Maybe next time.
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