Mother Duck

This afternoon my little Leah was toddling around showing her newest playmate (my babysitting charge) the ins and outs of our family room—how to turn on and off the TV, how to bang on the furnace grate at the end of the hallway and hear a metallic echo, how to misuse her toys, etc.

Their initial reactions to each other were to grab and taste each other, but once they got past first impressions, they now do everything together. They woke up from naps crying, messed their diapers, and needed bottles at the same time. I made the mistake of giving Leah a graham cracker, and I was instantly popular. There they both were, clinging to my jeans with mouths open wide like baby birds. When I went into the kitchen to transfer laundry to the dryer, there they both were again clinging to the gate at the edge of the room, anxiously peering over on tip toe. When they both got fussy (at the same time, of course!) I tried my amazing distraction technique: bubbles. Little birds again, clinging to me with their mouths open wide. I went to the computer to enrich my mind and they followed me, this time they were both trying to eat the cotton fibers coming loose from my jeans where the knee used to be.

My little ducklings follow close behind me everywhere I go. If only they were neatly in a row.