Kent left this morning for World of Concrete. He should have left yesterday, but he began feeling really bad on Sunday afternoon, got in bed about 7:00pm, and hardly left bed on Monday at all. He was not well. By Monday evening, however, he felt like he might rally, and this morning he felt well enough to go.
Blythe has been desperate for him to stay. For the past week she's been saying two or three times a day, "Kent-y Poo, I don't want to go to World of Concrete. You have to stay here." This morning, on the way to school, Blythe finally fessed up about why she doesn't want him to go. "Dad," said Blythe, "when you go to World of Concrete, Mom is mean."
Quite frankly, I don't know how this is different than any other week when he is here. She always thinks I'm mean, even when I'm trying to be nice. I guess she just doesn't have someone to run interference and be always on her side. Poor girl.
We need to say lots of prayers that the three of us left here at home will survive the next four days. I can say with great conviction that I am glad Kent does not travel for work. I like him to come home at the end of the day as much as Blythe.
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