“Mommy!” Jenny runs in breathlessly. “There’s a man here on a motorcycle!”
Peter’s eyes were gleaming with excitement.
It was just a coworker stopping by because his son needed a potty break, and we were a convenient stop. They used the facilities, declined lemonade because the sky looked threatening (and likely because Bill and the boys were not home), and were on their way. Peter, the girls, and I stepped outside to watch them go, the roar of the engine quickening our pulses and painting silly grins on our faces.
A few weeks ago, Bill was disappointed when he pointed out a very pretty bike on eBay and I told him that he couldn’t have it.
It had only one seat.