He is taking his three children--including that cute baby, to visit his parents. For 6 days.
On a plane. 5 or 6 hours, plus layover. By himself.
The mother of those children is my friend. I am working through my envy. It's not her fault she scored the Mother of all Fathers for a husband.
(I have no business feeling envy: I only have two children, and they go to school every day. The Man Who Lives In My House did take the larger hooligan to visit his mother for weekends back in toddler times. He will be most peeved if I do not give him credit. When the Larger Hooligan was little, he called us both "mommydaddy." He saw no reason to differentiate, except when nursing.)
My friend has visions of getting a lot accomplished: When her family returns, the house will be completely re-modelled, she will have run a marathon, knitted matching sweaters for each family member, and there will be a lasagne in the oven--with homemade noodles. Or something.
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