We had botched plans last night when a babysitter forgot about her gig and Mike and I scrambled so both of us could attend a meeting about Riley's move to team gymnastics. (Read: date night turned into cereal for dinner.)
When we finally got home and picked up the kids from our neighbor Jennie's house (I mean, "savior" Jennie), it was nine o'clock and way late for bedtime on a school night. I was yelling like a wild woman to get these three kids in bed and asleep so we could sit down and digest the amount of money requried for Riley's new endeavor.
I yelled Finn's name several times and he finally flew around the corner of Riley's doorway, where he was looking out her window onto a huge cornfeild to the side of our house. He said with all the excitement his little bod could muster," Mommy, I heard you but Daddy was showing me that farmer on his tractor and he is out there making corn RIGHT NOW!!" It was his hand motions, the inflections of his voice and the speed of his words that got me. I would have let him stay up all night so we could sit around imagining the sight of the farmer "making" corn right now.