Ugh. I’ll have to excuse myself in a few minutes to go chug some more Pedialyte but, hi. After a 15 hour flight, a 6 hour layover, another flight, a 2 hour drive, a few delays and about 28 hours of travel total, Will and I made it to America.
Where upon I promptly succumbed to a particularly potent brain-eating version of jetlag and a nasty stomach bug imported from Mother India.
Thank goodness for grandparents. I don’t actually know how we would have gotten through the last week without them.
Last night as Will and I were reading, we came across the words “grandmother” and “grandfather.” Suddenly Will looked crestfallen and began furiously signing his own person version of “want.”
“Should we call Grandpa?” I asked him. His face melted with relief.
We skyped out to my Dad’s cell phone and caught him on his way home from the dry cleaners. Will beamed at the sound of his grandfather’s voice–until he realized that he could not see him.
His lower lip quivered, his shoulders shook and suddenly he was crying–those deep, hacking, gut-wrenching sobs of a kid who rightfully wants something they can’t have. My dad hung up to drive home and promised to be on the computer in 5 minutes. Will gulped back tears and tried very bravely to be patient while we waited.
Then Skype rang and there was grandpa, grinning goofily on the screen. Will smiled and giggled and waved. Suddenly all was perfectly right in the world–for both Will and my dad.