According to my mental calendar Alex was coming home for Easter on Thursday of Holy Week -- Thursday the 28th. So I was a little surprised when he contacted me this afternoon to say that the airline has mislaid his bag, and then my mental calendar sproinged into alignment with the actual calendar. The 28th is actually the Wednesday of Holy Week, just in case your own mental calendar was similarly catawampus.
This means -- huzzah! -- that all five of my children are sleeping under my roof tonight. I picked Alex up at the train station this evening and brought him home to be fussed over. I took a picture of the five kids all in a row, chatting and playing online chess with each other, but you know that thing I was just saying yesterday about terrible family pictures? It's a terrible family picture. It fails to capture the pleasures of our wide-ranging conversation, which at one point swirled around in an unexpected eddy while I cautioned the boys against trying to sprout almonds in heavy water. When they were small, it was "don't ride the laundry basket down the stairs"; now it's "don't pretend deuterium is good for you or your almonds."
Right at this moment the three oldest boys are laughing too hard to talk. I am heading off to sleep with their laughter in the background. Good night, friends.