On Saturday afternoon, I announced that the call from Daddy had come. The boys were within thirty minutes of arriving home from Scout camp! Irish Jig planted herself at the front window to wait. Shrieks of glee echoed down the hallways minutes later, signaling their joyous return. Once hugged, kissed, and fed (of course), the unpacking began.
I brought baskets into the garage and had them sort laundry directly from their footlockers. By the time we sat for dinner a few hours later, I was on load number four. Following our animated, anecdote laden meal, I stood to swap laundry once again. Classic Rock reminded me what I'd been missing with his absence all week when he wryly commented, "She's doing laundry again; the Mother Ship must have signaled."
Some people are such smart alecks. (Not really the word I'm thinking, but this is a G-rated site).
They arrived home to a newly painted hallway.
I threatened their lives if they scraped my hard work carrying
footlockers, tents, or gear. All said lovingly, of course,
since I really missed them.
Irish Jig latched onto Classic Rock and didn't let go until her eyes closed.
(I keep looking at the difference in skin tones up there and laughing.
Prior to the sailing trip and camp, his skin was the same shade as hers!)
Zydeco finished his unpacking and eagerly plugged in for
the first time in a week. After, of course, he spent some quality time
with the Fire Belly Toads.
The boys requested "real food with actual vegetables". Apparently much of the camp's food came from plastic bags or packages. It's been a long time since I've seen them dig into spinach, squash and peas the way they did at dinner!
Today's post title from Thin Lizzy's The Boys are Back in Town.