“That was a great story Grandma!” my six year-old granddaughter says. “Tell it again.”
“No, I wanna hear the story of how you punched out that waitress who sat on Grandpa’s lap,” her eight year-old sister disagrees.
I smile down at my five grandchildren. Summer’s daughter Shelby and son Kevin, Autumn’s two daughters Angel and Katie, and Nick’s daughter Heather are sleeping over our house tonight.
“Sorry guys, it’s time for bed,” I answer.
“Oh come on Grandma,” Shelby whines. “Just one more.”
“Nope. Your parents would kill me if I kept you up any later,” I say as I tuck each one in and give them a kiss goodnight. “Now go to sleep, all of you.”
“’Night Grandma,” the kids chorus, trying to stifle their yawns.
I close the light and head to my bedroom. Nick is sitting up in bed, reading a book. “Are they asleep?” he asks. “You sure were in there a long time.”
“Yes. I told them the story of how we first met.”
“Again?”
“They love that story, it’s their favorite. I heard from Kari today, her and Brian are doing well. We’re planning on getting together, all of the Backstreet Boys and their wives,” I inform him.
“That’s a good idea,” Nick says. “It’s been a long time since we’ve seen them.”
“Exactly why we need to get together.” I climb into bed and give Nick a kiss. “You know Nick, I think the kids turned out okay.”
“Of course they did. We were, and still are, excellent parents,” Nick boasts proudly. “But we both know that I’m a better parent than you are.”
I smile, remembering the argument we had the day Nicky was born. “No, I am.”
“I love you Amy,” Nick says suddenly.
“I love you too Nick,” I reply as I lean in to kiss him.
