The sound of her keys jangling sets off an eruption on the other side of the door. It always does, and so she always jangles them a bit louder than necessary to help prime the eruption. Today is no different, and they’re all there when she opens the door, bursting to welcome her home. The twins, who only learned to walk a few months ago, lead the charge. The toddler is close behind, and the corgie is in the midst of it all, adding his barks to the delighted cries of the children.
Behind the young, noisy crowd, he sits on the floor, the big bulky Legos spilled all around him, with a multi-colored house featuring Mickey Mouse’s head the main architectural feat of the day. He looks tired, as he usually does, as anyone would when taking care of three small children all day long. But still, he stands and approaches her, wading through the pool of youth to offer his own particular greeting.
“How was the trip?” he asks, kissing her. He tastes like brownies.
“Same as usual,” she says, kissing him back. The kids are wrapped around her legs, giggling, asking for presents, but she still takes the time to let her embrace communicate that she’d missed him. “Let me get changed, and then you can take a break. Should I start a bath?”
His smile is tinged with relief. “Join me?”
“Is this a group offer?” She asks, gesturing to the giggling children.
She sets her bag down in the closet and takes off her blouse. She’s about to take off her pants when she feels the familiar buzz of her cell phone in the pocket. She pulls it out and reads the message. She smiles, and then freezes. Did she hear someone in the bedroom?
“Honey?” She calls.
She turns her attention back to the phone and feels a stirring as she taps out her reply. Then, swiping the screen to close the app, she decides to turn off notifications for incoming messages, just in case.
She finishes changing into her sweats, and pockets her phone as she rejoins her family.