A blizzard hit the northeastern seaboard a week ago, tonight.
We decided a week ago, tomorrow morning, to leave and drive north because: 1) the kids were out of school and hadn't seen their grandfather nor any of their Massachusetts aunts, uncles and cousins in 2.5 years; 2) since the snow completely missed us, we had new boots and sleds that demanded to be used; 3) by the time we got on the road, the weather and roads were totally clear; 4) not everyone knew that the roads would be totally clear so traffic would undoubtedly be light (which it was); and 5) we love an adventure and are very well prepared.
Once we arrived in Massachusetts, our first stop was to see my father.
After visiting for 10 minutes in his small apartment, we moved our party down to the recreation room at his assisted living facility.
Where, for the next hour, my father threw balls at our children while they ran around.
My father has Parkinson's and while he is doing considerably better than he was two years ago at this exact time, the disease has affected his facial features and expressions.
Nonetheless, whenever he'd lob a ball and knock one of our children down, his whole body would rock with laughter.
As their mother, it seems like I should be extremely upset that my father was knocking my children down...
And I'm sure I would be, if the kids weren't having so much fun, themselves.