Typical morning conversation as we snuggle in bed with the girls before rousing ourselves to start our day:
5-yr. old: Did you know that they named 'Saturday' after Saturn?
Bubba: The car? They named a day of the week after a car?
5yo: No, dork! The planet Saturn. Like Mars, Jupiter and Pluto before they turned it in to a rock.
Bubba: Is that where you're from? Mars? Or Saturn?
5yo: Nope. I'm from Monkeyland.
Bubba: Is that on Jupiter?
5yo: No. Monkeyland is on the freeway. Right near Disneyland.
Bubba: So I have to drive there?
5yo: No. You have to use the monkey bars.
Man, I'm gonna miss these guys! I'm on my way to redeem my terrific Christmas gift from Bubba - spending a week in England with my best friend. The girls and I all sobbed at the airport together in an enormous group hug while Bubba furiously swiped at his own eyes and urged me to go through the security checkpoint so we could stop the blubbering.
I hate leaving them and knowing that I'll miss a week of their lives. I hate leaving them after this rough, rough week we spent with my father at his house, having to acknowledge in person the way cancer is having its way with his body. I can't wait to scope out all of the terrific places for us to go back and visit together and find just the perfect treasures to bring home for them.
I love knowing that Bubba will take excellent care of them while I'm gone. I love knowing that they miss me and want me to be with them. The little monkeys.