The Fun.
The Games.
The pure joy of having an albeit temporary, live-in granny.
School starts again in the morning, but Sons#2 & 3 are awake now at 3 a.m. from the end-of-summer thunder storms that violently split the skies.
Son#3 lies prostrate like a mouse huddled under the blankets, while Son#2 gives running commentary.
Son#1 sleeps on, unawares, as only near-teenagers can.
Lucky bugger.
We'll be knackered, all of us.
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