We (der Brucer and I) are back from the grandlad sitting. Yes, they squirmed some, but not too much during the day. We all went to the grocery store, and found what we needed for our evening repast that we hadn't brought with us. Strange, how der Brucer and I always seem to end up cooking dinner for his daughter and kinsmen. Well, not that strange, given her cooking, but all the same.
This was followed by some naps, and then we headed off to see Home on the Range, which was silly and fun, in a Pecos Bill kind of way. Roseanne and Judi Dench make a perfect comic pairing, as unexpectedly good as Tom Hanks and Tim Allen were. The grandlads enjoyed it. So did der Brucer and I.
It wasn't until we got back to the kinfolk's homestead that all hell broke loose. I've never known a family to be so ready to battle with each other as der Brucer's daughter's does, charging towards one calamity after another. One grandlad charged upstairs to pout and hide in front of the television, the parents had not one kind word to say to each other, and the younger grandlad ran from one parent to the other shouting to get any attention. Through it all, der Brucer and I kept our calm, keeping our voices level and modulated, temporary eyes watching the hurricane.
Der B is exhausted, sound asleep on my bed. There's got to be a way of getting that family into therapy, but I don't know how.
I'm off to read today's posts.