A dingo ate their daddy!

One more day.

24 hours.

Then, our dad comes home from Australia.

He's been gone for two weeks.

During the last two weeks we've had lots of activities, and grandparent time, and projects around the house. We've kept ourselves as busy as we can stand in order to make us as tired as possible at night and to keep us from thinking too much about the big hole in our little family.

I've given up cooking completely and last night we settled on Chinese food. Pulling into the garage with our orange chicken treasure (China Chefs if your interested and local...it's so yummy!). As soon as we got back home, Elliott started to cry. At first he said it was because he wanted to finish his book so he stayed in the car and Wyatt and I came in the house. Then he came in the house crying, saying that he was "so tired" so he just plopped on the couch. I finally coaxed him to sit at the table and eat a little chicken and that's when he really lost it. Gobs and gobs of tears and boogers and gags and snot and in between gasping for breaths and me rushing him to the bathroom because I thought he was going to puke he finally spit it out, "I really miss my dad!"

Elliott then went to his room and I left him alone for a bit - it was just barely 7 pm. When Wyatt and I got upstairs he was starting to fall asleep but was still crying. We woke him up, catered to his every whim and finally got him to get out of his bed and onto mine. The three of us read books for about half and hour - that's how long it took him to calm down and then we decided to go to Shavy Jones.

Because, what else helps two sad boys, especially one very sad four year old, feel better than a wild cherry/blue raspberry shaved ice, buried treasure style.