family ties

"Wednesday comes after Friday," the elder lad tried to convince me last week -- knowing full well the order of the days of the week.  For him and his brother, Friday couldn't come soon enough.  That was because they knew their grandfather (my dad) was coming to pick them up Friday morning for an adventure at my parents' house.  My beloved, the lass, and I planned to come over later in the day for an overnight getaway to celebrate Memorial Day.

When Friday finally arrived, the elder lad was a little less sure about the plans.  "I want to go with you," he said.  Excited as he was, it was the first time he and his brother would be traveling an hour away to my parents' house without me, and the "unknown" factor was weighing heavily on him.  They've been to my parents' house several times with me and us, and they're very comfortable there.  It was just the first time for them to do something like this.

I related to him feeling similarly when I was a little girl.  I spent a lot of time with my Chicago family, which I always loved.  I spent many weeks of summer vacation with my Grannie over several years.  I always looked forward to that, though when the time came for my parents to leave to go home, I was often uneasy.  I knew I was safe there and would have a good time, but I would miss my parents.  It didn't usually take long for me to face the sadness of saying good-bye and move on to having fun.  

Hearing this story seemed to help him, and he was further reassured when I walked through the day ahead with him, how they'd drive over in Papa's blue car, probably have some lunch, maybe some quiet time, then do any number of fun things of their choosing.  Before he knew it, we'd be there with him for dinner.  I told him he could call me if he needed to, and I made sure to say that we wouldn't be letting him and his brother go if we didn't think they would be safe.  We knew they would be. 

The younger lad, on the other hand, was practically out the door when my dad arrived.  "I want to go to your house!" he said excitedly to my dad.

A few provisions in hand, they loaded into Dad's car (the elder lad wearing a brave face) after a round of hugs and kisses.  The lass and I stood on the driveway and waved to them as they backed out and drove off.

By all accounts, they both had a great time with my dad, mom, and sister, and were so excited to tell us about their adventures when we got there that evening.  "I was having so much fun I forgot about the sad things!" the elder lad told me that evening.  "Sad things?"  I asked.  "Like missing you," he explained.

The fun continued all the way through last evening, when we reluctantly loaded up to come home. 

How blessed we are to have family living close enough to do things like this.  The bambini spend a lot of time at my beloved's parents' house -- a place synonymous with "fun" to the bambini -- fifteen minutes away from us.  Trips to visit my parents an hour away are always fun too.  A lot of my beloved's extended family lives close by as well.  I do wish my bambini knew my Chicago family better.  Some of them have visited us, but we've only been there a few times.  Here's hoping as the bambini get older we'll be able to make more visits. 

The time I spent with my family in Chicago growing up was both formative and fun.  Having the opportunity to form relationships with these members of my family I only got to see a few times a year is something for which I will always be profoundly grateful.  I'm so glad my bambini are having similar opportunities to get to know and form relationships with their family.

The lads are already planning their next adventure back to my parents' house.  They can hardly wait.