Family visits are fun.  And adventurous, and unpredictable.  It’s my experience that the longer the time in between visits, the more adventurous.  Like with grandchildren and nieces and nephews.  I am hopeful that there is some switch in the brain of an older parent or sibling that allows them to look at family and find them marvelous, even when the little marvels come with complete emotional melt downs.

I’m sure there is a physiological explanation of it – several delectable treats for the little tummies, the absence of nap time, new activities, sights and sounds.   For my kids’ grandparents, on my side, who see them 1-2 times a year, the few day visit encompasses real life: the beautiful, the not so great, and the ugly.

We just had an awesome visit together.  And our cherub provided the most grandest tantrum of her life.  I imagine, if using full literary freedom (which they would not, because they are politically correct and sweet like that), that this year’s Christmas letter may read something like: “we had a lovely trip to the South.  Our grandchildren in Warner Robins are wonderful, charming, and sparkling little beings, except for a few minutes whereby their little heads spun around in 360 degree intervals and we heard ear piercing screams of  complete, abject disobedience…..”

I fielded tonight’s occurrence which was quickly rectified.  Shortly thereafter, we were all back seated at the table, enjoying one another’s company.

I don’t drink often, maybe once a month, or on special occasions, like when my parents come.  They had just offered me a glass of wine.

Yes, thank you, I would like to partake of your nice red… in a 32 ounce ‘Big Gulp’, please.

 

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