Connor came home tonight looking tired and jet-lagged and hungry and showed us souvenirs and gave us hugs and pet the cats and had a bite to eat and admired our new tv that replaced our Grand Canyon trip (a blog in the making) and then said he was tired and was going to bed.
But the whole point of this short little post is found in the first three beautiful words of the run-on sentence above. My Europe-traveling son is home. Now maybe I can get some sleep and stop worrying. Life is good.
Good night all.
