That something, I quickly observed, was my tire. Rolling down somebody's drive way. Several good samaritans, a few bewildered police officers, and a knight of a father in law later we were back on the road. Going no more than 30 miles an hour. Home. And only home.
Last night my Tommy started to fix the tire only to have the jack collapse and fall on his foot. A friend came to the rescue with a bigger jack only to encounter about 300 other problems before my Tommy threw the towel in for the night and came in to cuddle sleepy-sad babies.
This morning our friend came back over so that he and my Tommy could finish in time for church.
I had everyone's clothes laid out and told the girls to go take a shower. I really only meant Abigail and Emily. Katherine saw them grab their clothes and head for the shower. She grinned a grin only a girl on a mission can grin and grabbed her pile of clothes as she ran (as much as a 19 month old can run) to catch up with her sisters.
She's our little big girl, every day joining a new big kid activity to leave her baby ones behind.