They're home, which is much goodness. I got good long Jacob-snuggles, because he had just woken from a nap and needs many minutes of cuddling before he is ready to face the world. Emily regaled me with 14 stories at once. Mary plodded in and practiced her skills of invisibility so as to get a brief break from children.

Willem walked in. He saw the kitchen. He was lukewarm. He has since decided he likes it well enough, though he never in a million years would've picked the color himself. (And, to be fair, I wouldn't have chosen it on its own; but I needed an orangeish color that would go well with both the dark wood cabinets and the light wood furniture.) He's worked his way from underwhelmed up to whelmed, so it's a good start. He's blaming his singular unimpressedness on exhaustion from a week with his mother and a long drive, but somehow I don't expect him to be doing cartwheels on his way into the kitchen tomorrow. Ah, well. I'm still happy with it.

And, just to be contrary, he is actually more impressed with the organization and cleaning of the office, because he knows that it was a lot of details and he was probably going to have to do it himself.

I understand that this is really my issue, not anyone else's. I'd gotten myself so excited and anticipatory over their homecoming that, really, any reaction short of passing out unconscious on the floor would have been a disappointment.

All are equally thrilled with the new refrigerator, though unfortunately the water has only been hooked up long enough to make a few rounds of ice cubes - not enough for Jacob to pelt himself in the face with one when he was checking it out. Maybe tomorrow...