Photo Credit: © Mrsash174 | Dreamstime.com
I parked the car in the garage, slid out from behind the wheel and opened the door. As I walked across the cement floor, I heard the tell-tale scratching of the newest member of our family—Georgia, the dog—waiting to greet me.
I opened the door, wiggled into the house trying not to step on doggie toes and bent over to give the obligatory, welcome-home belly rub. When I could break free, I hung up my coat, shed my shoes and turned the corner into the kitchen. From the adjacent family room, I heard muffled 9-year-old giggles—then, a head popped out from under a blanket supported by two upright couch cushions.
“Hey Dad. Like our mansion?”