Back to reality, we have arrived home from our long weekend away.

We were away just long enough for the sun to thaw our brains, to eat at restaurants missing a stack of wooden high chairs in the front entrance, to begin reading a book that will be finished sometime during our next vacation and to savour a couple of early bird specials.

Walking in the door yesterday, real life quickly whipped us back into shape.

Within an hour of re-entry, I found myself force-feeding snacks, changing diapers, chugging some water in an attempt to replenish fluids after the fruit de-hydrator we flew home on worked its magic and shuffled off to swimming lessons.

I think when you return from missing your kids one of two things happen. You are either more aware of those most pronounced tendencies in your children (the thirsty one, the helpful one, the diapered one) or, the children use the opportunity to flaunt those things you know them best for and go completely over-the-top.

Ellie (the pleaser) when told we had swimming lessons, quickly changed into her suit.

Ellie: Mommy, the bag is packed, we need a quarter for the locker…two quarters in case the locker eats the first one like it usually does and two juice boxes. Check, check and check. (She air brushes a Nike swoosh and marches proudly towards the door.)

Hanna (the “I’m going to pretend I didn’t miss you but secretly missed you terribly” one) played it cool.

She had convinced Grandma to pick her up at school mid-afternoon complaining of a sore tummy, an ailment that vanished quickly when she was told it was her last swimming lesson this session and that there would be a mini-Olympics with a chance to win an imaginary gold medal. Her eyes sparkled with the promise of taunting her younger sisters with the fake ribbon and insanely heavy yet totally fabricated foil-wrapped chocolate-looney. She would pretend to eat it the entire ride home.

Chloe (the “I’m going to impress you with my tricks” baby) heard us coming in the door and came waddling….quickly. She wasted no time chirping; “baby, abu, do do do” (from the girl’s piano lesson) and spun around on the carpet until she became dizzy and fell. Usually no more than two spins has her giggling and confused on the ground but she must have made it around at least four times before nearly slamming into the ottoman and falling to her knees, laughing with delight.

Hornsour (the cat) left us a present under the table outside. Some sort of black, winged, beaked, frog-legged, furry, four-eyed, frozen creature, oozing goo and entrails was smeared lovingly on the deck.

I think she missed us the most.