It’s not a graceful entrance.
We crash/bang/sing/stumble/dance/pontificate/drag/whine/laugh our way into the house. Backpacks hit the the floor with a thunderous clatter. Jackets are tossed in one direction – even though the coat hooks are at arms length – and at kid height. Two sets of shoes fly up and come crashing back down – briefly electrifying the room with a shower of sparkly lights.