Reversal

I ate pizza for dinner.

Three-day-old pepperoni pizza, with shreds of tin foil stuck to the bottom.

Need I say that Corey is on another business trip?

We ate “dinner” while the baby screamed. I think I heard her sob, “Teeth are not worth this! Fie on life in general!” But I could be wrong.

Dinner was pinched and weary. The older kids and I ate our soggy meal in strained conversation, even after the baby ended the crying jag.

Then, without warning, the evening turned.

The kids ate all their carrots and grapes without whining, which earned them a treat – ice cream, of course. I settled Teyla back into the high chair so she could sample oatmeal cereal and pureed apples. Connor laughed hysterically at her screwed up expressions. She, in turn, beamed at him, her favorite big brother.

I suggested we load Teyla into the stroller for an after dinner walk. We grabbed stale hamburger buns to feed the geese that sometimes loiter at the neighborhood pond and hit the sidewalk.

It was a perfect summer evening. The air felt like a down comforter – warm and snuggly on my skin. The sky was cloudless, the setting sun throwing stripes of peach and fuchsia in the azure sky. The kids laughed and nibbled on the geese’s bread as they walked. The baby gazed around at the world with knowing eyes. “Ahhh, yes. Paradise. I remember it well.”

And just like that, everything was right with the world again.