I wanted to talk all about the fun we had tubing in the lake, jumping off a roof into the water, running from a steamy sauna to a cold, lake then back to warm up.

I wanted to talk about flying off a tube being pulled by my sister-in-law dragging us from the back of a jet-ski while my brother, my husband and I were catapulted in the air. As we fumbled in the water, thankful for our lifejackets, wondering if it was in fact a pool of minnows swimming through our fingers while we laughed and waited for help to arrive, I smiled knowing there was no better way to spend my thirty-ninth birthday.

I had a tickle fight with my four year old on a trampoline, watched my eight year old play a heated game of chess with her cousin and witnessed my ten year old help her little sister apply sunscreen and fasten her life jacket so she would be safe playing near the water.

Memories to last a lifetime.

I wanted to write about those things. But as I sit here with my newly steeped cup of tea listening to my parents in the sunroom behind me, I have become distracted as I eavesdrop on the following conversation.

Mom: Did you want a cup of tea?

Dad: Of course I do.

Mom: Oh, you didn’t say you wanted one.

Dad: Well I do.

Mom: Well Greg handed you something else down on the dock, I thought you were having that.

Dad: I would love a cup of tea.

Mom: Okay, but when I said, ‘Would anyone like a cup of tea?’ You didn’t say anything.

Dad: Assume from this day forward, for as long as I live, if you are making tea, I will always and forever say ‘yes’ I want a cup of tea.

Uncomfortable silence is fun too.