The people formerly known as my parents have left after a weeklong visit. The purpose of their trip was supposedly to wish me a happy birthday and spend some time together.
Last Sunday evening they showed up in town and met us at church for worship. After briefly saying hello, they proceeded to snub everyone at church that tried to talk to them and rushed out the door as fast as humanly possible. Once back at my house they engaged in some brief conversation with the wife. I should say one of them, and only one of them, at a time tried to talk with the wife. The parental unit not holding my son would talk to the wife in an effort to distract her and keep mom away from the kid. That way the other parental unit could make baby faces and goofy noises at their grandbaby. So it went all week. One would distract mommy and the other would get to hold the baby. Only when cries of hunger or the dreaded poopy diaper started would the grandchild be returned to the milk lady for a brief servicing.
Such is the behavior of grandparents.
Mrs. Ipsa made a comment to my father, that she wished I hadn’t been so busy with work so I could have visited with him more. I’m not sure he knew who she was talking about.
One other bit of information came out this week. My sister sent a wrapped package that was only to be opened with all of us together. Inside was a zip lock baggy with a picture of an oven drawn on it and a miniature loaf (some might call it a bun) of bread inside.