You know how they say that all the bags on the carousel at the airport look alike? Well, we've never seen another one like this one (a designer number with a retail value of over $300 that I got for 1/10 of that price at BJ's Wholesale Club--and if I'd known how much use it was going to get, I would have bought a back-up for when this one wears out!). She's no run-of-the-mill suitcase.
Good old Old Pink. I bought this bag back when I started to become a true jet-setter, about the time our oldest son got engaged to sweet Regina--who, by the way, just gave birth to a fourth daughter on Holy Saturday. Which makes four little girls under the age of four, two of them identical twins. God bless her!
Anyway, it was tough leaving that sweet family yesterday, just a week after the birth of the new baby. I feel like I'm always having to say good-bye to people I love--and I hate good-byes!
On the way to the airport, I was bummed. (As two-year-old Little Gal would say, "I sad. I crying.") My son was driving and my husband was up front with him; I was sitting in the way back of the mini van, with Little Gal and the twins strapped into their car seats on the bench in front of me. Little Gal started to call out for me, and I told her I was there and reached my hand over to pat her on the head. She grabbed it and wouldn't let go for most of the ride.
Papa and I had so much fun during the week we spent with our granddaughters, keeping them occupied so that their mom could concentrate on healing after a difficult delivery and taking care of their new baby sister. They are such animated, spirited children; even a simple trip to the department store is filled with wonder. The night that City Girl was being born, we spent some time in the pet department at Meijer, admiring the fish. It seemed every bit as exciting to our granddaughters as a trip to the zoo.
So I guess here's the thing:
I'm with you, Pooh Bear.