boys and girls.

The morning after the lovely spa retreat I was scrambling to get things done. Baby Moe cried, not for hunger, but for facilitated movement. She's become irritated with her uncooperative body and has decided that the best way to get around is by piloting "the mom."

Duke had Sunday meetings, so she had to wait for me to become available. Usually that is a very, very long wait. She fussed on the floor as her brothers came and went inside and out.

The boys rough-house their way from space-to-space, leaving behind them a trail of destruction. I listened as their small herd tumbled through the living room, right over the space Moe laid. She stopped crying. Then started again the moment they moved on.

I walked in to her, scooping her tearful sweetness up in my momentarily available arms. Behind her ear was the tiniest, purple flower. A gift from brothers.

I have no doubt where they learned this kindness for sister. They watch the way their dad loves me.

We're the luckiest girls in the wide-world.

Us and the three tiny queens who, once grown, our boys will be fortunate to find and marry.