Being a remote grandmother has its advantages. One particularly is Emily and Sellers’ annual Mardi Gras visit. Since they were babies, they reveled in our carnival as if they were New Orleanians. In fact, Sellers calls my house the “Mardi Gras House.”
There are reams of beads, plush, glitter and trendy throws carpeting every inch of my house. King cake is a staple. Preparing to return to South Carolina is quite the exercise in sorting and prioritizing what coveted throws will go to their classmates.
Then they are gone, and just like Lent, quiet replaces chaos at the Mardi Gras House.