I am not a morning person. Not that I think 6 am qualifies as morning anyway, that’s still night. Regardless of how I feel, the rest of the world seems to think that’s a fine time to get up and start our days. This week Cole started high school, and we are once again facing the day way too early. It makes me cranky.
Though it is very hard to be cranky when Cole comes bouncing into my room, uber-happy, with an egg sandwich cooked for him by De Oma. Yep. Oma is here! My mother who fought tooth & nail against our move to Germany. My mother who boycotted Germany for three years. My mother is here! My dad called me two weeks ago that he had a free ticket, and they were coming. Could I keep it a secret? You bet I could! I didn’t tell the kids, I didn’t breath a word. Then, yesterday afternoon, the doorbell rang. Who could it be? It’s holidays here and our street, our town, has become a ghost town. So the door bell ringing was very unexpected. But exciting, and both Tess and Dane ran to open the door.
I wish I had been standing behind my parents with my camera. Both kids went still. I think both forgot to breath. And then… OMA! OPA! And they just melted into their grandparents arms. There is no better surprise.