As far as I know.
With three shorties 5 and under,
I find myself wading through the mire.
Through toys, and diapers.
Through tiny little socks who
will never return to their mate.
Through questions about Gawd and the Big Bang and which animals will eat each other at the end of the universe.
There are mood swings,
and moments of such divine poignancy that I cannot speak.
(which if you know me, must mean I have been struck by lightning)
And in this mire and maddness
every once in a while
just for a second,
there is order.
And the potential catches its breath,
and pauses before it rushes in.
The tools that assist creativity all line up at attention
poised for the next moment of creative chaos.
And everything that has a place, stays in place.
That is a beautiful little second.
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