Braeden and Mark

Last week Braeden had a cold and texted me this:

I could relate.

When I'm sick I want my mom to come and pick me up too.  I want to lie on the couch and watch The Price is Right and drink juice. (Is The Price is Right still on TV?  I have no idea.)

Braeden did come home Friday though, for the weekend.  Mark and Emma went to the International Cinema together and then Mark brought Braeden back from Provo.

I still have a hard time believing my little baby boy who still looks like this in my mind...

...can just up and drive to Provo.

But he can.

Braeden slept until about 11:00 on Saturday which is what he obviously needed.  Mark kept wanting to wake him up and I said no.  Mark said, very skeptically, "Well, I guess you're the mom so you know best...."

Yes.

Always.

(Not always.)

Later in the day I noticed this out the window, which is a clear indication of Braeden being home:

I know when she reads this, my mom will say Braeden shouldn't be putting bare footprints in the snow if he's recovering from a cold.

And I'd agree except our children never have cold feet.  Never.  And they get it from Adam.  I have cold feet seasonally.  They're just cold during the winter.  That's all.  I think they're the strange ones and they think I'm the strange one.  Adam says, "Your feet should at least be room temperature!"

And I guess he has a point.

I don't know.

I did enjoy having a weekend with Braeden and Mark (even though Braeden slept/did homework and Mark did homework/hung out with friends).  I counted myself lucky during the intermediate hymn at church while I was standing between my two boys, listening to their voices blend as we sang.  I like those guys.