On this fine, sunny Sunday morning I found myself out in the front yard with GK, mug of coffee in hand, watching her toddle around, ride the myriad tricycles and big wheels, and laughing at her as she implored me to ride the child-sized scooter. I knew that on the other side of the front door, the other three were wasting food, spreading debris around the living room, arguing, possibly crying and losing the remote. Again.
I leaned against the Volvo and watched as the three college-age guys who live three houses down stood around their upright golf bags and open trunk, no doubt discussing their plans for the day or remembering the highlights of their night before, whatever that might have entailed. They looked at me, I looked at them, they looked at me, I looked at them. I'm pretty sure they were envying my life.
At their leisure, they loaded those bags into the trunk, adjusted their windbreakers and ball caps and climbed in, heading off for a day at the course. I took my daughter up in my arms and headed inside.