At least once, I’m sure.
Today, when Seth woke from his nap, in usual form, he knocked on his door until I gave him permission to open it.
I was sitting cross-legged just on the other side, ready and braced for what I knew was to come.
“’ere’d Papa go?” He rubbed his tired eyes.
“’ere’d ‘amma go?” Furrowed brow.
“With Grandpa.” A tear slid down my own cheek.
“’ere’d Daddy go?” His bottom lip came out.
“With Gramma and Grandpa, but he’ll come home in two sleeps.”
He turned, and walked to the center window that overlooks our driveway.
“All gone,” he said.
He turned and crawled into my lap, and his tears fell with mine.