Thank Goodness for Pants

Coming home from work, I walked into the house and said, “Hey, everyone.” There was no reaction from my boys, playing in the den.

Cowgrit was in the kitchen, to my left, cooking dinner. She said, “They’re wrapped up with themselves right now. They didn’t even hear you.”

I put my backpack down on the floor, against the wall, and walked into the kitchen to give her a hug. As we stood there in our embrace, we could see the boys through the opening between the kitchen and den. Calfgrit4 looked up at us, and without saying anything, he stood up and started running.

“Now he’s noticed,” Cowgrit said.

CG4 left the den in a dash, rounded the foyer, and ran through the kitchen doorway. I braced for impact, and he collided into my backside to join our hug at a dead run. His height compared to me is such that if not for strong jeans, and a wary clinching of the buttocks . . . .

Bullgrit