My grandchildren are here for two days, they arrived last night. I had planned on their whole family being here for dinner (parents included), however plans change. As soon as they were in the door, my son asked if I would be upset if he and his wife didn't stay. "We just want some adult alone time." Never mind that they were going to have the next two days of adult alone time. Okay, it doesn't take a rocket scientist to know this means, "Hey Mom, we really want to go home and have sex, lots of it, and we can't wait to get started."
The meal that I had fixed was soup beans, this was at my son's request (you know the one who chose sex over dinner). I also had cornbread, cheesy muffins, and chocolate silk pie on the menu. In the process of the children exchange, my son did manage to wolf down some beans, eat two muffins and lick the beaters from where I had prepared the pie. I am glad he wasn't going into his night of debauchery on an empty stomach.
The outcome of having less people than expected was leftovers. More specifically, one half of a chocolate pie. Today, after lunch, the kids asked if they could have pie. The result of three young children imbibing in sugary chocolate decadence, is three wild indians, running amok around my house. Complete with whoops and hollars and charging each other like mad bulls. "Settle down, before someone get hurt." The words had barely left my mouth when the whoops turned to crying. A head on collision, between the two boys, confirmed that the three year old, indeed, has the hardest head.
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