If Husband Were Here, He'd Have Laughed

Living at home is grand.

Mom cooks better than anyone and makes a mean margarita. Dad plays catch with the boys and teaches them mad poker skills. Husband comes home every few weeks to much fanfare and celebration. I have constant company and plenty of support when raising my children the rest of the time on my own.

We're a little crowded, sure, and Dad's interest in Extreme Trucking is disturbing.

But so far so good.

My kids still talk about Colorado Springs and Freedom Elementary. For the most part, their recollections are positive ones. Oldest tells us about funny things his old friends taught him, like how to flood ant piles with water, and Youngest remembers how the coach down the street used to encourage the smaller kids to cheat when playing basketball.

This morning Oldest entertained me and my mother with a tale about a little girl who had a crush on him last year. She stole his lunch sack and wouldn't give it back.

"Then she got mad because it only had a banana left in it," he said. "She didn't like bananas and mine was pretty big."

I paused for a moment.

"Well, babe," I said, "if a girl grabs your lunch sack and complains about the size of your big banana, she's probably not the girl for you anyway."

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mom say a prayer.

Yep. Grand. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.