I will likely incur the wrath of mothers everywhere when I tell them that I have stolen Robbi’s children and have brought them to Brooklyn for the weekend, leaving Robbi alone in the Barn to fend for herself on Mother’s Day.
But before you throw me to the wolves, consider this: what greater treat is there than two solid days to loaf and lounge without the peals and patter of small bodies in motion? What better way to celebrate motherhood than to be relieved of the associated burden for a few blissful mornings?
Perhaps I am grasping for ways to alleviate my guilt?
In any case, Robbi, we’re thinking of you as we sit on the back steps of the picturesque Brooklyn brownstone that is our home for the weekend. Here’s hoping you’re asleep or curled up on the couch with a bowl of ice cream. We celebrate you in your absence.
Here’s hoping you’re enjoying ours.
I cannot think of a better gift. I am green with envy!
No comment from Robbi. Are you sure she didn’t hop a plane to some tropical island, Matthew? (Then again, those are awfully cute munchkins.)
What were you saying? I just woke up…
Have some ice cream, Robbi, and go back to sleep.
Done and done, Jenifer. Thank you.