Even writing this post is costing me precious energy I can scarcely afford. But here's a recap.
They made forts. They played elaborate make believe games involving pretend pets. They made friendship bracelets. They ate an impressive amount of food. They watched a movie. They giggled. They danced to Train. They had flip-flop cake and watched the Birthday Girl open presents. They said please and thank you. They sort of sometimes included the little sisters. They made new friends. They were fabulous.
And when they left, most of my kids sort of kind of fell apart.
At one point, after too many slamming doors and too many screeches and bellows, Rick went into the living room where the fighting was happening and said wearily: "That's it. We're putting you all up for adoption."
Listening and cringing in the kitchen, I wondered if he might be emotionally scarring them with this bit of sarcasm.
He followed up with: "You decide if you want to be placed somewhere together, or if you want separate new families."
Without missing a beat, and before I had time to form a complete thought about the potential damage he was inflicting, Lady E piped up: "SEPARATE! SEPARATE!"
At least one of them will survive our unique brand of parenting.
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