Their early lunch ended up being closer to a late breakfast. Having worked up an appetite, Andy downed a glass of orange juice and devoured most of a three-egg omelet. Jake, in contrast, only picked at his food. It was clear that wetting the bed still bothered him and Andy resolved to talk to him about it later. For as annoying as Jake often was, seeing him down like this was actually worse. He was only 7, Andy thought. Seven-year-olds are supposed to be bouncing off the walls.
“I’m glad we all got to see each other,” Andy’s grandmother declared. “It isn’t easy these days, with everyone being so busy. And the weather, oy! But we made it.”
“We sure did, Mom,” Uncle Marty said, raising his glass of water in a toast.