This week, the girls are on spring break.  As is customary on most school holidays, there was a flurry of Nana/Gram scrambling over this week months ago (over who would get to host the Faulkettes, of course), and we arranged for the girls to visit both Alvarado and San Antonio.

And I miss them.  As you would imagine.  But I didn’t realize how much until, in a stupendously stupid move, I picked up a baking pan, straight from the oven, WITH MY BARE HAND.  Seriously, I have no idea what I was thinking.

As I groaned about my idiocy and incompetence, Wes checked it out and was appropriately compassionate.  I got my hand into a comfortable position around an ice pack, noting that in that shape, it looked a lot like a Nick Jr. Oobi, a character from one of Emma’s most beloved shows.

And I said to Wes, in my for-the-girls voice, “Shame, man, my Oobi has an ouchie.”  He looked at me.  I looked at him.  And he didn’t disagree with me when I said, “I really need the girls to come home.”

My charred Oobi and I are counting down the days…