About six weeks ago, during that late summer time sandwiched between camp and school, my husband, my sons in-law, and I, took five grandchildren to the beach. (Three shared grandchildren and the in-laws’ other two.) They ranged in age from 4 to 10.
At 7 a.m. on day two of the trip, as we adults sipped our first cups of coffee and the kids pleaded for more Pop-Tarts, my 10-year-old granddaughter hand-delivered an invitation to each of us that read,
“Come to Sticky’s and Gummy’s funeral. It’s in my room at 7:30. Wear black.”
Read this article by Laura Black in Baltimore Magazine here.