My day went from “meh” (the usual grind of getting five kids out the door), to fantastic (got to see Marla in a tight see-through cami), to annoying (picking up Chevelle from the nurse for the tenth time this month).
As I stir the chili I prepared this morning and cover up the Crock-pot, Cade pulls up in my old beat-up truck. He drops his book bag on the table, grabs a Gatorade out of the fridge, and heads toward the pantry for a snack. It’s his usual routine, except instead of telling me what happened at football practice, he’s quiet.
“How was practice?” I ask, breaking the layer of ice that’s fallen over the kitchen.
He plops down in a chair and opens a container of Pringles. “At least they won’t have to change the lineup.” He puts a stack of chips in his mouth, chewing and downing th
