Let the Wild Rumpus Begin

Please excuse the quality of today's photo. It was taken in the airport at approximately no-hours-left-on-the-clock-thirty last night, and that is not my finest hour of the day.

By the time I snapped this shot Husband and I had been at the airport for three and a half hours, and may I say, Kansas City, that I love you and that I am glad that everything is up-to-date here, but your airport is hella boring after 8 p.m. I had to keep kicking the sidewalks out in front of me because they were already rolled up, and the Starbucks signs that was LIT even though the said Starbucks is not OPEN...well, that's just cruel.

Anyway, in spite of the fact that Boy#2 was on one of those flights and this is the sure kiss of disruption for any airline schedules that come through Chicago (seriously, his fellow passengers should pay him to get off the plane because then they would arrive on time and he would have more traveling money) all of the flights arrived! Yay! And we only have to collect one set of luggage from the airport today! Yay-Yay!

(The funniest text of the many, many, many texts exchanged during the evening came from Boy#2, who observed "Dude just got off of the plane I'm waiting to board and he was wearing a lifejacket. Not sure what to make of that.")

Boy#3 has not yet arrived because real job blah blah blah would rather not get fired additional blahs (but his marching band got a I AT CONTEST YESTERDAY! YAY-YAY-YAY!) but three-quarters of the wild rumpus has arrived.

I may be just a smidgeon tired, as I originally typed that previous sentence as "the wild rumps has arrived" and that seemed incredibly funny to me, and incorrect agreement between noun and verb should never, ever be funny. And now everyone else in the La Quinta breakfast room is turning around to see why I'm giggling.

I'm giggling,La Quintians, because I am happy.

Let the wild rump(u)s begin.