Between the husband’s keyboard building/collecting and the oldest child’s woodcraft hobby, the mail carrier totes packages to our door every week. Last week, the mail carrier told the youngest child that we are his best customer. The child and his father found that much funnier than I did.
The youngest child expected his new school binder to arrive today. He spent the morning staring out the front window. When the mail truck hadn’t arrived at lunchtime, the child began googling things like “how to track packages” while texting complaints to his father.
“Mail!” One not at all Blues Clues-ish scream and the child raced out the door to greet the mail carrier. The driver made a huge production of putting a large box of toilet paper in the youngest child’s arms and slowly stacking two boring ads atop the box to make the child’s balancing act additionally comical.
As the child stomped back in the house loudly grumbling complaints about his missing package, the mail carrier silently walked three steps behind him. The mail carrier didn’t speak, but he grinned. His entire face was barely constrained laughter as his arms casually carried the small box addressed to the youngest child.