My little girl was homesick.

Every summer my parents take each of my kids one at a time to spoil them with the good life of being an only child for a few splendid days.
Little Missy's turn came first. I asked her how many days she'd like to be at Nana's and she thoughtfully looked up, came to an answer, nodded her head and said "Six nights." I told her that when I was a kid and went to my grandparents' house for extended periods sometimes I'd get terribly homesick and cry at night, even though I was having a great time. So she looked up again, nodded her head and came to a new answer based on my experience: "Ok, five nights."
I talked with my mom and four nights it was.  
But before my mom took Little Missy to the wilds of Oklahoma, my mother-in-law took her and five of her cousins to the wilds of southeast Kansas for the second annual Grandma Camp. Lots of living it up and partying down with a Nana and a Grandma, all within a week's time.
The night before her return home--after nearly a week gone with Grandma Camp and Tulsa combined--I was talking to her on the phone about the mundane: what she was eating for dinner and what she'd done that day, when she (accidentally?) hung up on me. So I called her right back to give her a hard time when she answered, CRYING.
My sweet sugar was homesick.
After my mom got on the phone and calmed her down a bit before hanging up with me, my dad immediately texted me: "Good job making your daughter cry. Just sayin." And then I knew everything was ok.
The next afternoon she jumped into my arms and awkwardly wrapped her spindly legs around mine after my parents pulled into our driveway. Then she sat next to me at dinner and made a quick play with her daddy and told me all about the next episode of Jessie while letting me play with her hair in bed.
And, goodness, it is right to have her home. I'm more than thankful that I have parents and in-laws who want to take my kids and spoil them, but so grateful that my daughter's home is still with me.