Eight hours after we woke up, we arrived. My kid was a champ on the flights, sleeping and eating and amusing himself and everyone else with nary a tear, but we were bushed. I’ll admit I wondered why we went through the drama of a cross-country trip when, after too much partying and too little of his regular routine, my son was awake every two hours through our first night. At 5:30 am local time, I stumbled out of our room into the living room to pour some coffee.
But when stepdad saw us on his way out the door to work and a smile took over his face — “Baby boy! How are youuuuuu?” he crooned — I understood. We function through the fatigue and stress because they love him, and he needs to know them.
That’s my uncle and my son watching some man show in their respective recliners.