The Things They Do

I love the things they do.

They rush up to hug me when I’ve been at work all day, big smiles on their faces and stories on their lips: a stone they found and a slide they slid down.
They bite around the sides of things because their front teeth are wobbly; they spit apple skin into their hands and give it me to hold because they don’t like to eat it. They giggle when they have their teeth brushed and they sing along to Annie at the top of their voices.
They dance to Otis Redding and the Ting Tings; they sing Wind The Bobbin Up and Blondie.

They make me pictures and cards and notes and pressed flowers. They give me kisses and cuddles and toothy grins.

The things they do almost make it worth going to work, to see them all over again as if we’ve been parted for weeks.


7 responses to “The Things They Do

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