Because I am an incredibly attentive wife and in tune with the every thought and emotion of my husband, I can always tell when Trey starts to get a little stressed and feels under the pile.
He gives me certain clues, like, "Babe, I'm feeling under the pile."
It's as if I have a sixth sense.
In an effort to try and get him out from under the pile, we did what all wives in Texas do with their husbands; we sent him fishing. I mean, really, is there a better way to refresh your soul than on a serene lake with a spinner-bait at the end of your line? I don't think so.
While he was gone, the kids and I embarked on several adventures, some of which I'll tell you about this week, some of which I may keep to myself because, well, they just weren't that exciting.
Saturday afternoon, we were invited to watch Ringling Brother's GREATEST SHOW ON EARTH, said with enthusiasm and drama, from a box at the American Airlines center. Seriously, so stinkin' awesome.
Five minutes in, I came to the sad realization that my children had never been to the circus when Graham asked if the elephants were real. "What about the other animals, are they real too?"
"Ahem, yeah", said the loser mom who deprives her children of the circus every year because walking past table after table of $12 cotton candy, $11 snow-cones, and $24 spinner-light-up-things with four children could be deemed as torture in 22 states.
Apparently, the whole, "We're not buying anything so make sure you eat a good lunch", thing went totally over their heads because not thirty seconds after walking in the door, Graham told me he was 'so thirsty he might die', and Sadie was, 'hungry, mama, real hungry. Do they sell McDonald's?'
But, I said...oh forget it.
Thankfully, the suite we were in was loaded down with hot-dogs, popcorn, and Diet Coke. It's as if they knew I might need one or seven.
I have never seen my children sit, totally enraptured, for 2.5 hours. I mean, except for Sadie getting up every fifteen minutes to refill her popcorn bowl. It makes me think I might have a little more success in my day to day if I wore a long red coat, giant top-hat, and spoke in a deep baritone voice.
"C'mon boys and girls! We're off to the greatest place on earth...THE GROCERY! Aisles and aisles of wonderment and cereal, just waiting to be placed in the basket!"
It could totally work, and I'm 1/3 of the way there since we already have the top-hat. It came with the $12 cotton candy that I swore I wouldn't buy - but did anyway.
Because I'm a sucker for giggly, delighted children. That's how I roll.