Upon touching down in beautiful Phoenix, I practically leapt off that plane and charged down the airport terminal, snatched my luggage off the baggage carousel, and dashed outside, knowing that when my sister's car pulled up it would have my beautiful little boy inside.
And when I flung open the door there he was, peacefully snoozing with his mouth hanging open.
So, instead of being greeted with the boundless excitement and giggles of delight I'd daydreamed about during my entire return flight, Baby Brown Eyes welcomed me home with his typical I-just-woke-up-and-I-hate-everything-including-my-mother-who-I-haven't-seen-in-four-days mood.
The delighted giggles he saved for later, when we visited Mr. Brown Eyes at work. When Baby Brown Eyes saw his daddy walk out of the fire station, he was so excited he could hardly contain himself.
Life is so unfair.
Of course, I discovered later that Mr. Brown Eyes won Baby's love and affection by feeding him candy, buying him toys, and letting him stay up late watching movies while I was gone.
I wish I'd thought of that.
Glad to be home,
The Brown-Eyed Girl