Thirty minutes later when Dad and Sawyer returned, my body was more relaxed than it had been in weeks, and I knew I’d need to make a stop for some food of my own if I wanted to stay awake when I drove the little man for his nap. He was working through the tail end of his sugar high, and I gauged that I had approximately five minutes to get him strapped into his car seat before he went into either a meltdown or a flailing fit of play.
I scooped up my boy and tickle-carried him to the car with Dad trailing behind me carrying a small paper bag. Once I got Sawyer settled in his seat, Dad handed me the bag and said, “Quesadilla from that new Mexican place.” He gestured with his head up the street a bit. “Thought you might need lunch.”
I smiled and peeked in the bag. It was still warm and smel
