I remind the kids when I pull into my parents’ driveway. I carry their bags into the house and give my mom a hug. “Don’t let them talk you into buying a bunch of souvenirs at the circus,” I say. “And don’t give them too much candy unless you want one of them to throw up.” “I think your dad and I can handle it,” she teases. She takes the kids’ bags and places them at the bottom of the stairs. “Meanwhile, you get to spend some time with your husband tonight. Any plans?” “Just dinner at home. It’s in the oven, so I better go.” I kiss Josh and Jordan good-bye. “They’re all yours,” I say. “Good luck.” The smell of baking chicken greets me when I walk into the kitchen. I throw my keys and purse on the counter and prepare the rest of the meal. It takes me a half hour to make the risotto, but it’s Chris’s favorite. Rummaging around in the fridge, I locate a fresh bag of salad. Perfect.
