Welcome Home, Daddy

Daddy was gone for five days this week. Each morning John would wake up and say, "I think I hear Daddy downstairs in the kitchen!"

Although Chris swore there was no way he'd be home in time for dinner, he came home right at dinnertime and I had nothing on the table, having planned to eat cold cereal or something similar with the kids. So we got Mary dressed in a party dress and went out to eat. (This precious dress was handed down from my sister-in-law and I think her third child wore it for her first birthday ladybug-themed party.)

John had pinched his finger in a closet door earlier. He is afraid of Band-Aids, but he likes to wrap any injured member in his shirt: "that makes it feel better." It's quite a psychological effect, of course. He walked around, using one hand only, the other hand wrapped up for at least two hours.