So. They've gone, leaving large parts of our house as virtual wastelands. Think one of those derelict factories down by the docks you see on TV crime shows. Broken bits of machinery and stuff all round. Parts of our place are like that but with broken furniture and useless single socks laying about.
Mrs P and I are reluctant to clean up yet. We're not sure it isn't a trick.
We could easily move in and find the other socks and repair the furniture. We might also be tempted to pull the now empty bookcase out from the wall and see whether there really is a door to another dimension.
But we'll wait just a bit longer. And keep patrolling the perimeter in case they do return and put all that hard work to waste.
To be honest we are quite surprised they got away at all, such was the size of the ever-increasing load building up in the spare room, all awaiting the arrival of Soldier Boy and the transport.
Obviously he has had some surveillance operation on the go and knew what he was in for because when he did arrive his van was in possession of four significantly bigger tyres than it had on its last visit.
It seems you can run a big chunk of the army but dad still comes up with the best advice when it comes to getting from A to B (for Burnham) safely.
The loading went well. With military precision you might say. There was even room for the new Soda Stream. Just. No chance of fitting in the rebounder, though I did try to sneak it into the pile when nobody was looking.
Anyway. Just like that the time had come. Tuesday, 10am. They were leaving.
Soldier Boy started the engine, Boomerang Child burst into tears as she said goodbye, and the new tyres started turning. Slowly.
So slowly in fact that when they texted Mrs P an hour or so later they had barely made it to the end of the street. Okay, I'm exaggerating. They had got a bit further than that but it was slow going.
Very slow. By all accounts a hitchhiker offered to push the van near Taihape. At Levin, Boomerang Child walked the footpath looking at the shops while the van sped at maximum speed alongside.
They made their 6pm ferry booking with minutes to spare. The ship guys put the van on one side to counterbalance the weight of two trucks and a container on the other side. Luckily the ship made it across without too much lurching to one side.
At 10pm they hit the South Island and restricted army rations were dished out. Apparently eating too much at Maccas would've added to the weight of the van and slowed them down more.
Finally, at 3am. They crawled into base. And texted us to say they had made it.
We lay there, now wide awake, happy in the knowledge the kids were safe and about to start a new adventure in life.
And at least one of us rejoiced in the news in the same text that they'd be back in a few weeks for a catch-up.
OK, I rejoiced too.
But if I'm honest I was thinking I might be able to persuade them to take the rebounder back with them.
*Kevin Page has been a journalist for 35 years. He hasn't made enough money to retire after writing about serious topics for years so he's giving humour a shot instead.
