This weekend felt like some pages out of "Where the Wild Things are." Where after wild rumpuses he wanted to be where someone loved him best of all, so he gave up being king of where the Wild Things Are and jumped into his boat and set off to sail for over a year and a day and into the night of his very own home where his found his supper waiting for him and it was still hot.
I came home to a loving family from what felt like far away across the world, to kids who cleaned my house and baked me a cake and gave me presents of dragons and bangles, and just had to hug me to death. Some would think I would be coming home to the wild things, but it felt as magical as the ending of the book always feels. "And it was still hot,"