Smallest Peppard Boy

He was gone for a week.  The house was very quiet.  I can't believe I'm going to say this but it was too quiet.  No one burst in asking to "cut down a tree".  No one came upstairs ready to make brownies for breakfast first thing in the morning.  No one gave me the special-too-tight-Gus-squeeze-hug.  (It's too tight but I missed that too.)  No one slept on the floor with Drake.  No one came in soaking wet, dripping water all over my floor.  (Actually, I did NOT miss that.)  No one brought home tidbits of fascinating gossip.   (Be warned: Gus is surprisingly astute at reading body language and translating the word UNspoken.  Nothing stays hidden from this boy for long.)  No one asked me long, involved, IMPOSSIBLE to answer questions involving speeds of various cars and their ability to beat other various cars in intricate maneuvers.  No one tried to walk past me nonchalantly with a butane torch behind his back.  It was too quiet.  I am very, very, very glad that my noisiest, talkingest, dirtiest, fastest boy is home.