Party day.

Waffles with strawberries for them. Leftover lasagna for me.

So much. There is so much.

She texts us the playlist for the car ride there. First up: Britney Spears.

Forgot to check the gas.

That feeling when they are old enough and you don’t have to watch them the entire time and can order a beer in the party room and talk with other adults while they jump and play games.

I am happy with this friend group.

On the other side of the gas pump she is quietly cursing at him. He was not where he was supposed to be. She is trying to work on the relationship and she doesn’t think he is doing his part. She got a text at 4 in the morning and he wasn’t where he was supposed to be. I stop the flow of gas, knowing I have enough to get us all home. I just want to get out of there before she hits him.

It’s not just me. It really was that bad.

It can be as good as I want it to be.