How long was Igone?
Doesn’t it take a while for the dough to rise or whatever it has todo?
I look at the watch on my wrist and scrunch myeyebrows.
Huh.
Turns out, the kids decided to forgo ordering pizza in and decided to makehomemade.
Knowing my son, Aidan was trying to put too much cheese on thepizza.
I clear my throat, and three heads pop up from theirtasks.
“Go away!” Reeceyells.
“Uhh.”
“You weren’t supposed to be back yet. We were going to surpriseyou.”
Christine. Bless her heart. Starts crying.Again.
Isigh.
Reece and Aidan both get a deer in the headlights look on their faces, and Bri barely contains an eyeroll.
“She’s fine. Just a bit emotional,” I say, leaning down to kiss her on the side of herhead.
“I love y-you guys so m-much.”
“Mom,” Bri murmursconsolingly.
“I’m sorry,” she sniffles. “I’m happy. Ipromise.”
My eyebrows reach myhairline.
“I am!” she says, nudging me with her shoulder. “Sad. But happy. Good steps, right,baby?”
“Good steps,” Briagrees.
“Okay. So, what do we havehere?”
That gets Aidan and Reece snapped out of their emotional-ladytrance.
“We’re making homemadepizza!”
“With extra cheese,” Aidan addsproudly.
Bri groans, and the five of us set to working together as best we can in my smallkitchen.
Three hours later, pizzas devoured, two games of Yahtzee, one round of Watch Yo Mouth, and a heated game of Farkle, during which the boys both kept asking us “Who Farkled” and found themselves hi-lar-ious, we settle in for amovie.
Reece starts popping popcorn, and as soon as the smells wafts into the living room, I notice Christine stiffenup.
“Hey,” I say, trying to get her attention. “Youokay?”
She noticeably swallows, and nods her head a coupletimes.
“Fine,” shemumbles.