Moving Day

Well that was easy.

So our daughter, son in law and the two small people who are attached to them moved into their new house yesterday. And we, the group consisting of myself, my wife and our son, did what we do to assist. A team. Each in our own lane.

For my wife, it meant being a worker bee, on ladders doing her high wire act, carrying far too much, far too often, in her impression of a weightlifter, making sure this was not a house, but a home by day's end. Never slowing, a body unable to be at rest, defying Newton's law of relativity as to age and gravitational pull.

Our son did his wizardry with technology, calculating and determining so that there were no "can you hear me now" areas, no dead or even under the weather spots, making a list and checking it twice to see what was naughty or nice.

As for me, well if you have been following along with my tune the last decade or so, you know where my strength lies. Getting out of the way. And, occasionally  entertaining very little people.

So I did what I do best. Nothing, to be precise, except trying to keep a smile on tiny faces, supplying my young granddaughter with a bagful of gummy worms, gummy sharks, gummy bears and whatever other animals inhabit the gummy planet, making sure that French fries was a wholly acceptable main course for dinner for both kids (the ordering of chicken fingers a clear subterfuge), and generally concentrating on the task of removing "no" from my vocabulary. Actually,  not very different from any other day.

It was not until almost 8PM that the movers stopped moving. And only a few minutes later we said our good night (good night moon, good night cow jumping over the moon).

Moving day is an exhausting process. It takes a village to make sure everything happens without a hitch. And, yes, an endless supply of  gummies (not the adult kind, that would be a different story) doesn't hurt.