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Jane and Hazel walk over together, our seven-year-olds holding hands. Logan brings little Bryan – named after Bryce, sort of – from the backseat and carries him over, grinning.
“I thought I was meeting you at home?”
“We wanted to surprise you, Mom.” Adam grins, reaching down and stroking Rusty on the head. “Didn’t we, boy?”
“We sure did,”Jane says, doing her best Rusty voice.“Yes, Mommy, for sure!”
I laugh, leaning down and hugging them all, then standing and kissing Logan on the cheek.
Two-year-old Bryan squirms and I take him into my arms.
“Mommy,” he says.
I kiss him on the cheek. “So, shall we get some dinner?”
“We can go to that dog-friendly place, Mommy,” Adam beams. “Daddy, can we?”
“What do you think, gang?” Logan asks.
“Yeah!” Hazel sings. “Then Rusty can eat too.”
“Can we walk?” Adam says. “It’s just down the street. Rusty’s tail will go crazy if we walk, just you watch.”
“What do you think?” Logan asks me.
All the kids look at me, Adam with wide pleading eyes, Hazel and Jane smiling at me.
“Mommy, go,” Bryan says.
I smile so widely that my cheeks ache. So much happiness it almost bursts out of me.
“How could I say no, huh? Yes, we can go.”
“Yay!” Adam sings. “Hear that, boy?”
“Come on then,” Logan smiles, wrapping his arm around me. “Let’s go.”
