Lucy has been on vacation. We sent her and her little pink rolling suitcase off to El Paso (with Nini), where she spent four thrilling days with people who think she is a charming genius child, which she is when she is with them. According to Nini, when the plane took off and the houses and people got smaller and smaller, she likened it to Mr. Rogers' neighborhood and became convinced that Mr. Rogers lives in El Paso. "Mr. Rogers" even called her a few times while she was in El Paso, which gave Uncle Adam a chance to practice saying the phrase "Hi neighbor." We expect him to wear a cardigan from now on.
While Lucy was on vacation, we were on vacation. We ate lots of nice dinners in restaurants, splurging because we were saving the babysitting money. We slept until lazy hours like 8:30 and 9. We went to five different Target stores (don't ask) with only one almost tantrum. We were a little...bored. The expanse of free time yawned before us. The absence of chatter and bossing and PBS was deafening. Even the dogs, whose lives she ruined, seemed to sniff around looking for her.
We missed her and our house missed her. Granny has taught Lucy to play this game: as soon as we turn onto our street, Lucy starts asking, "Is this Lucy's house? Noooo. Is this Lucy's house?" And when she spies our house, she exclaims "THAT'S LUCY'S HOUSE!" as though she has snuck up on it. On the way home today, she was more excited than ever to see our house. "Here we are," she said, "we're home." I remember who were we before Lucy came into our lives, but this house feels like it was hers before she even got here. It's nice to have her home.