Home, glorious home...

We had such a lovely, lovely Kansas visit.  P stalked his grandmother the entire time.  Got a great high from practicing commands with Uncle Cash's dogs (Sit, Logan.  Sit!  Sit, Logan!  Good dawwwwwg.)  Loved to tease Gramps every night when he got home (especially with his water squirting trick ring!).  Squealed with happiness each time he got to call Papa to the table (for breakfast.  And lunch.  Every day.  But its so different than not seeing E that it was novel for the entire month;)  Joyously played for the day with Grandpapa and Uncle Jace (and did not want to leave them!!!!)  Got sick and missed seeing some Kansas friends :(  Got better and stalked Grams some more...

Gramps made us a fire a few times and Grams found some food coloring free (can you believe WHITE marshmallows still have food coloring in them?!?!?) marshmallows for roasting.  Which we did, gleefully.  Then the kid, realizing how cozy a fireplace fire is (no billowing leaf smoke, like his little outdoor terra-cotta-pot-match bonfires...), drug down some bedding and pillows and made us a place on the floor in front of the crackling warmth.  E, P and I cuddled down and told stories for the rest of the evening.  The cat even joined us.  As I lay there, squished next to my guys, looking up at my parents beautiful ceiling, listening to E's unbelievably dull story (sorry, honey, usually they're brilliant;), I was so content, so seriously happy, it seemed unfair.

Which is exactly the word the cat thinks, on a regular basis....

 UNFAIR.  The child decided earlier this year that the cat was his and he would love her to pieces.  And so he has tried.  He picks her up and carries her all day.  Plays follow the leader with her.  Hide and seek.  Patty-cake.  Still life.  Pirate.  You name it, the cat gets it.  And she takes it.  All day long.  Then, at the end of the day, she, cautiously, strolls up next to the kid and lays down.  Why she isn't under the couch is beyond me.  But she seems to love him (for the most part) almost as much as he loves her.  Just more, erm, gently...

(P did a whole series of these, car crash shots.  His attempts to look disfigured were frighteningly fresh:)

And so, after a crazy day of snow stalled travel, we arrived home at 1 in the morning to lovely neighbors with gifts and well wishes and h.o.m.e.

Which is confusing to us.  Since E and I still call "Kansas" home (yah, its been almost a decade here in Brooklyn, and almost 2 decades since we first moved away from Kansas, we're slow learners:) and P refers to New York as "home."  So, sometimes when the three of us are talking about "home" we confuse ourselves :)

But the child wasn't confused.  The whole day he was ready. to. be. Home.  And when we walked in our door, he raced around saying how lovely it is to be here and how gorgeous our home is and how happy he was and then took to bouncing on the beds chanting "home glorious home" to the tune of Oliver's "food glorious food."

E and I have often (quietly;) wondered if the child would rebel against one or the other (our "home" or his), with all of this back and forth business.  I'm so glad he's still tickled with both!