I’m Not Excited For The Future

We left Park City, Utah early this morning in a whirlwind of morning calamity with three adults urging on six children to get themselves ready to get in the large passenger van to ride for a while to transfer to a shuttle bus to wait in line to check bags to wait in line at security to then get on a plane for almost four hours to get home.    Exciting stuff.   Riveting plans for the day.   But we made it.

We landed and I called my mother to tell her we’d be in before five o’clock and we were all excited to have her homemade soup for dinner.    She had not only made soup, she was bringing it over for us all to eat after getting home from a long day’s tiring travel of mostly sitting around.  

On the way from the airport to the house my children both got in trouble.   My son’s transgression was for blatant lying.   After much discussion he (hopefully) understood that owning up to something is a far less consequence than lying about it—especially when you’re not that good at coming up with lies.  (I didn’t tell him that last part).  

My son was very upset.   Quite distraught.   He exclaimed that he wanted to die.   (He’s done this before, although it’s relatively new).   We told him he’d miss out on all kinds of good things, like Mimi’s soup for dinner.    He had an answer for this though.   He told us. “I’m not excited for the future”.    That was hard to find a counterpoint to.  

But we did get home and they did enjoy the soup and I think my son is back into life now that the arduous day of travel is over.

The Big Boy Update:  My son told us at dinner, “chocolate is a tsunami of unhealthy stuff.”  

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:   We were very glad to have Alexa back in our lives when we got home.   At dinner we were asking her things and playing songs.   At one point things got quiet and my daughter said to me, “did you mean to say that?”   I realized I’d used the word ‘Alexa’ in a sentence without realizing it and Alexa had been patently waiting for me to ask for something.   My daughter informed me what I’d done wrong by saying in completely safe words, “you said the Echo Dot’s name”.