The kids started school yesterday. For the record, Garrick is in his last year of elementary and Quin's in his second year of middle school -- but we will not be dwelling on these details and will in fact try to remain in denial about them as LONG AS POSSIBLE, 'kthnx.
At home, we joke (A LOT) about how quickly the kids are growing -- Garrick could play tight end for the Philadelphia Iggles at this point, and Quin's up to the bridge of my nose, and has a mustache -- but I was not prepared for what clonked me over the head yesterday.
In between the bus ride home and the return of their working parents, the boys perch at my parents' house (god love them) for snacks, computer time, and homework. Between the post-vacation catch-up and covering for my staff accountant (who's on vacation this week), I barely had time myself to pee yesterday (you're welcome), but I wanted to make a point of phoning the kids to see how the first day of school went. So I called my parents' house, and my dad managed to get Quin to pick up the phone.
His voice was so low I thought he was sick. Or had been crying. Or was at least VERY VERY TIRED. Nope, he was fine, not tired, not sick or crying. HIS VOICE JUST WAS LOW.