“Daddooo!”
The cry of joy greeted my husband as he walked through the door.
Our seventh, still a baby, waddled forward with speed to her father, giggling and grinning and more cries of “Daddooo!”.
Jim picked up Roza in his arms as the other kids swarmed in.
We are so very blessed.
Later – as the kids were cleaning their teeth, helping the younger ones, bickering back and forth – we talked in the kitchen.
“It’s so different hon,” I’d been stirred up that day at playgroup, comments about raising kids from people with one child who send them to daycare four or more days a week. “It seems like our choices veer further and further from the rest of our world.”
Jim folded me in a hug.
“That’s not a bad thing baby.”
So very blessed.
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