Work has called, quite loudly, so I've been otherwise engaged. Nevertheless, good news to report. My wife went to the doctor yesterday, and the girl has decided to move even further up and farther away from coming early.
And my wife had reason and opportunity to wear shoes and to go outside. These two things, she hastens to remind me, are not to be undervalued when the bed becomes your world and it's all full of sandbox runoff. Perhaps it was the direct sunlight, but she even passed over the Chicken Orzo soup at the Garden Cafe for a sensible salad, relishing being part of a public space.
Two more weeks of bed arrest, says the doctor.
Our son couldn't be enjoying his grandmother's visit more than he is. Whenever she steps out of his line of sight, he frets with "Grandma go?" We shudder to think how many times he'll say that when she does pack up her clothes, folds in our eteranal gratitude, and heads back to the kids she improves professionally. And we wonder how many times we will be saying it ourselves. Definitely not as many times as we'll be saying "Thank you."
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