things to come, life ahead wouldn’t by the slightest stretch of imagination be peaceful. Five kids, only one of whom was not talking, five adults, only one of whom was not laughing. Or shushing. Or practicing the rolling of eyes.
Mona enjoyed the chaos in a way—so much life, so much vibrancy. But a nagging thought forced itself into the back of her mind: What will this do to your tendency to depression? It’s going to weigh on you, this constant churning. You won’t be able to just walk away from it. Can your nerves handle it? Maybe not.
When the majority was finished eating, only Torin being a slow eater, Marit pushed back her chair and raised her arms. “Okay, enough! We will now have thirty seconds of silence.” Someone snickered, someone else snorted back, and laughter burst all around the table. Even Jakey smiled, almost.
“So much for order.” Magnus had become an expert eye roller since he met Marit.
Mona leaned back in her chair. “Can I get anybody anything?”
“Ice cream?”
Arne’s request spread through the ranks to become an instant chant.
Steig adopted his military voice. “No ice cream until the table is cleared and food put away.” He turned to his mother. “There is ice cream, isn’t there? Otherwise we’ll have to go find some.”
“Is this house ever without ice cream?” Mona smiled at her son, who at times could be the biggest kid of all. Or at least he used to be. Had he lost his exuberant youth in the last year?
“And cookies.” Torin was the quiet one of the bunch, at least so far, but at four he could still do a lot of changing.
Steig stood, Jake still on his arm. “Okay, kids clear the table, dishes in the sink for Grampy to rinse and put in the dishwasher. Moms put the food away, Magnus and Steig go for a walk.”
An instant of silence, and laughter broke out again. “Not fair.”
Steig looked at Magnus. “Sounded like a good idea to me.”
“The dads dish up the ice cream after you heat the hot fudge sauce. And you can’t do that until we have counter space, so…” Mona wiggled her eyebrows at her husband. “Oh and Magnus, please get the ice cream out of the outside freezer so it can soften a bit.”
Ken stood with a groan. “Come on, kiddo.” He prodded Brit on his right. “Now!”
Brit picked up her plate and silverware.
By the time they were ready to dish the ice cream, only one glass had spilled and one plate with food hit the floor. Ambrose leaped to take care of that before Marit could get through the congestion to pick it up.
“Okay, we are eating ice cream either outside or on the porch, take your pick.” Marit held her ice cream scoop like a baton.
Arne, first in line, piped up. “Outside.”
Ken pleaded, “Porch.”
“Okay, kids outside, adults in the porch room.” She and Mona dug into the ice cream, and Ken manned the hot fudge dispensing.
Seated in comfort on the three-season porch, Mona looked at her son, whose shadow had decided to go outside with his sister, Mellie, taking care of him. Steig relaxed into his papasan chair. “Thanks, Mom, Marit, for such a fine meal. Been a while since we had all the fixings.”
“One-dish meals?” Mona asked.
“Yeah, or takeout. Thank God for their sitter, who cooks for us at times.”
“Being a single parent must be the pits.”
“On one hand, but there is no more dissension. That’s worth some nonhealthy meals, not that Angela liked to cook much.”
“You are sure she cannot come after the kids?” Marit asked.
“She can try, but legally she signed herself out. My army lawyer made certain it’s airtight. She doesn’t want them; she made that clear, and that creep of hers made sure of that. She had the choice of him or us, and she chose him.”
“The kids seem content.”
“Mellie never mentions her out loud, and poor little Jakey reverted to babyhood, like needing diapers at night again.” He turned to his mother. “There are night pads in one of the bags so the bed
Mona enjoyed the chaos in a way—so much life, so much vibrancy. But a nagging thought forced itself into the back of her mind: What will this do to your tendency to depression? It’s going to weigh on you, this constant churning. You won’t be able to just walk away from it. Can your nerves handle it? Maybe not.
When the majority was finished eating, only Torin being a slow eater, Marit pushed back her chair and raised her arms. “Okay, enough! We will now have thirty seconds of silence.” Someone snickered, someone else snorted back, and laughter burst all around the table. Even Jakey smiled, almost.
“So much for order.” Magnus had become an expert eye roller since he met Marit.
Mona leaned back in her chair. “Can I get anybody anything?”
“Ice cream?”
Arne’s request spread through the ranks to become an instant chant.
Steig adopted his military voice. “No ice cream until the table is cleared and food put away.” He turned to his mother. “There is ice cream, isn’t there? Otherwise we’ll have to go find some.”
“Is this house ever without ice cream?” Mona smiled at her son, who at times could be the biggest kid of all. Or at least he used to be. Had he lost his exuberant youth in the last year?
“And cookies.” Torin was the quiet one of the bunch, at least so far, but at four he could still do a lot of changing.
Steig stood, Jake still on his arm. “Okay, kids clear the table, dishes in the sink for Grampy to rinse and put in the dishwasher. Moms put the food away, Magnus and Steig go for a walk.”
An instant of silence, and laughter broke out again. “Not fair.”
Steig looked at Magnus. “Sounded like a good idea to me.”
“The dads dish up the ice cream after you heat the hot fudge sauce. And you can’t do that until we have counter space, so…” Mona wiggled her eyebrows at her husband. “Oh and Magnus, please get the ice cream out of the outside freezer so it can soften a bit.”
Ken stood with a groan. “Come on, kiddo.” He prodded Brit on his right. “Now!”
Brit picked up her plate and silverware.
By the time they were ready to dish the ice cream, only one glass had spilled and one plate with food hit the floor. Ambrose leaped to take care of that before Marit could get through the congestion to pick it up.
“Okay, we are eating ice cream either outside or on the porch, take your pick.” Marit held her ice cream scoop like a baton.
Arne, first in line, piped up. “Outside.”
Ken pleaded, “Porch.”
“Okay, kids outside, adults in the porch room.” She and Mona dug into the ice cream, and Ken manned the hot fudge dispensing.
Seated in comfort on the three-season porch, Mona looked at her son, whose shadow had decided to go outside with his sister, Mellie, taking care of him. Steig relaxed into his papasan chair. “Thanks, Mom, Marit, for such a fine meal. Been a while since we had all the fixings.”
“One-dish meals?” Mona asked.
“Yeah, or takeout. Thank God for their sitter, who cooks for us at times.”
“Being a single parent must be the pits.”
“On one hand, but there is no more dissension. That’s worth some nonhealthy meals, not that Angela liked to cook much.”
“You are sure she cannot come after the kids?” Marit asked.
“She can try, but legally she signed herself out. My army lawyer made certain it’s airtight. She doesn’t want them; she made that clear, and that creep of hers made sure of that. She had the choice of him or us, and she chose him.”
“The kids seem content.”
“Mellie never mentions her out loud, and poor little Jakey reverted to babyhood, like needing diapers at night again.” He turned to his mother. “There are night pads in one of the bags so the bed
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