Condemned man's last meal.

Boys will be boys.  And even that wouldn't matter if only we could prevent girls from being girls. ~ Anne Frank.
Theo is on a boat headed back to Hamilton Island where he works.    Despite the fact my sons drive me nuts I am nagged by the desire to tuck all my chicklets under my wing & under the one roof come nightfall.  I sleep better when I know the head count is right: 2 cats, 3 boys, 2 girls ~ & Dearest ~ all tucked up snug in their own warm beds, safe & cozy.  This wandering around the planet jangles my nerves.

So knowing he was going back today Theo asked for a *Last Meal* ~ which is invariably meatballs.  Meatballs is one of those time honoured childhood meals that nourish the soul as well as the body.  My brother, Mark, adored this meal & everywhere he went people served it up knowing they had a sure~fire winner.

It is a good thing he's gone back though.  Schooling has been at a minimum as the house has been in constant uproar for the last month. *sigh* The girls have been complaining loudly how noisy the boys are ~ noisy enough that  Liddy raised no objections at all about driving him in to the airport. ☺

Today the house reeks of Theo's aftershave & deoderant.  As I work my way through the debris & detritus he has left behind, calculating which small items of mine found their way into his possession, but not out again, I will gradually sweep up & tidy away all traces of his presence until, unexpectedly finding a forgotten shirt jammed behind a sofa cushion the faintest hint of his scent brings a rush of memories.  Life is full of bitter/sweet moments.