I sit and watch the table of four guys scarf down every crumb of food I spent the morning preparing. You’d think I’d have grown used to this by now, but it’s like Logan and a bunch of mini-mes. You’d be hard pressed to find one feature of mine in our three sons.
“Hey, babe, you okay this morning?” Logan lifts his wrist to my forehead.
“I’m fine. Just tired.”
The three boys—Noah, Crew, and Wade—get up at the same time, walking their plates to the sink. The dishes are put in along with the empty smoothie glasses that Logan has them drink every morning.
“It’s the first day of Christmas break… we could go ice skating or sledding or maybe even skiing?” I offer up some choices other than what Logan has already planned for them—a day away from me.
Okay, yes, I’m being a tad dramatic, but som
