I am having a wonderful weekend just hanging out with Grace and Whit. Yesterday was a perfect day with lots of low-key play with friends, hanging out at playgrounds, and Armando’s pizza for lunch. Whit was asleep by 6:57 and Grace by 7:02, so wiped out were they by the day.
This morning we went to Starbucks (see above) and on the way home, Whit surprised me by busting out with one of his classic apropos of nothing deep thoughts:

Whit: “Mummy, when I get to heaven, will I see you there?”

Me: “Yes, Whit, I think so.”

Grace: “Of course you will. She will be dead before we are.” (do you sense a theme here?)

Whit: “How do we get to heaven, mummy? Is it like an airplane ride?”

Grace: “Yes, I will go by airplane.”

Whit: “I want to go to heaven by taxi.”