Some weekends my main job is as driver. Pick Mythankfulboy and a teammate up at baseball and take them home. Run him to his dad’s to get something he forgot. Take him to a school thon (at least I didn’t have to pick him up). Take him and a friend to a skatepark and wait four hours for them to be done so I can take them home. I marvel at people who have more than one and manage to get them everywhere. And, the truth is, I don’t mind it, as long as it doesn’t have to be squeezed between other things at breakneck speed, which was true during the week this week.
B was very tired last night after being up all night at the thon fundraiser (raised $8000, so that’s cool) and then four hours of indoor skate park (on a scooter). He doggedly did homework when he got home then sank down beside me on the couch for the chalice lighting. He was thankful for a fun, exhausting weekend. I was thankful for a productive weekend despite the chauffeuring. He gave me a big kiss on the cheek and took himself to bed.
It’s a happy thing to be exhausted from fun. It’s a thing for which to be grateful.