Our five-year-old twins went to kindergarten across town. Several afternoons each week, one of them had therapy or swimming afterward.
Derek ate like a seventeen-year-old athlete.
That meant buses.
Lots of buses.
I didn’t hate public transportation. Before kids, I used it constantly. But hauling two exhausted children through rain was different.
Then there were groceries.
Derek ate like a seventeen-year-old athlete. The boys were always hungry, and Derek’s parents ate dinner with us several times a week.
His mother, Linda, always offered to help clean.
After therapy, I stopped for groceries. We were out of milk, chicken, bread, fruit, and detergent.
Derek usually said, « Mom, you’re our guest. »
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