They all know by now - that mama is watching that old mailbox.
My son comes in with puffs of frigid air and slams the door shut, "Sorry mom!" he calls, setting the mail key back in it's spot.
Neil grins at me, "How many days since it shipped?"
"It was a week on Thursday..." i reply.
"Yeh, but we had a long weekend in there... it'll come this week for sure..."
& i feel a little silly - that my tiny brood is watching with me for the proof copy of that little bound book with 168 pages of my words typed in black ink to arrive. They're watching me do something a little crazy - just the tiniest bit like King David's passionate dance...