The Ineffective Moments of Spelling Parents

Last night was the weekly date night with our "guests": Marissa, Todd, and Kilan. We go to the pool. We eat snacks and play until it is dark. We come back to the house and clean out the refrigerator. The adults chat. The boys watch a movie and settle down for sleepy time. Kilan has a much looser bedtime than Turner so when our guests leave, he is fairly eager to crawl in bed (his body is anyway; his mouth doesn't stop protesting until his head hits the pillow and his eyes snap shut). Our weekly date makes me really enjoy the more laid-back possibilities of summer life.

Around 10:00 pm I took Turner to bed. I snuggle up to one side of him and start telling him a story. He is complaining about having to go to bed and digging for reassurance that Kilan will be going to bed promptly at his home. Andy was there last night so he came upstairs to check in on us. Turner's eyes are closed and I am gently removing myself from his bed. 

"I wish I had some of that C-A-K-E."

Andy laughs. "Yeah, well it isn't really good anymore."

"Why?"

"It melted."

"Oh."

"Yeah the refrigerator wasn't good to it and there wasn't room in the freezer."

"Oh."

Turner, eyes still closed, chimes in, "I'm sad to hear that our cookie dough ice cream cake is melted."

Andy and I look to one another and smile.

He continues, "Yeah Daddy. I'm really sad that our cake didn't have room in the freezer."

"Me too buddy. I was thinking about cake all day." I say.

Andy offers another apology.

Turner says, "That's OK Daddy. We can buy another one."