My children are gone. They promised they would miss me, but they really only said that because I looked so pitiful.
Sarge took them halfway to their Granny and Papaw's house on Saturday, and Granny and Papaw met them (in case you were worried he just left them there). He said he barely got a chance to tell them goodbye - as soon as he put their carseats in the car, the kids jumped on up in and started buckling. They were ready to get there!
They've done this before, and they know what's in store, and they can't wait. Papaw has a dump truck deliver a giant load of sand every summer under a tree in their giant yard. That sand pile is the greatest thing that's ever happened to my kids. Ever.
People used to tell me that I'd miss them. And I do, periodically. But I know they are having so much fun, and they are being spoiled ridiculously rotten. So I don't worry about them. And I don't miss middle of the night visitors. Or demands for more milk. Or wiping various body parts.
But I have noticed that the dog seems to have picked up some of the slack for demand-making.