I found a tennis ball in the bathroom.
This morning while cleaning and vacuuming, I was crying.
Grand #3 and his parents flew home yesterday. Drats. Big fat hairy rats. I already miss that sweet boy. So nice. So polite. Incredibly smart. His parents are doing an amazing job.
I miss the carpet covered with little cars.
I miss the backyard covered in balls and trucks. I miss the commotion only little people can bring. The front porch is clean as a whistle, not a hot wheel car in sight.
The dog’s water dish is just sitting there. Full. No water around it on the floor. No ball in the bowl. Just a perfect bowl of water.
The is no jar of homemade gold fish crackers on the counter. Empty.
The laundry room is quiet. The washer is not chugging away.
The patio is all tidy and the lime green bottles of bubbles have been put away.
The dining table smells like polish. The chairs are all perfectly situated.
However, the glass doors have perfect little pudgy hand prints all over them.
My exercise bike has the perfect chalk hand print on the black seat.
The glass from the top of the coffee table had been put away before they arrived. A chalk board put in place. The parents were kind enough to write a message for us to find when we came home from the airport.
The chalkboard is staying put for a while.
It is heartwarming.