The other day I was walking through the streets encircling our current home. It was before 8 am and both my boys were so wiggly and sad, the best thing to do was load them into their side-by-side stroller and soak in some fresh air and morning sun.
My favorite mornings are the mornings we get out when the sun has barely risen, my coffee is warm, and I have time to stroll the neighboring streets.
We were walking and they were holding hands as they often do; resting on the top of the stroller were my forearms and the book I was currently reading. I walked slowly while I read out loud.
“Oh are they both yours?” The question caught me off guard, which it shouldn’t have, considering this question is asked multiple times an outing.
I look up from my book, but don’t slow my pace as I respond, “Yes, they are!” I smile and keep moving past the passerby, not wanting to stop and talk. Sometimes I stop and talk, other times I don’t. On this particular morning, I needed this quiet walking time with my boys before the busyness of the day.
I pick my book back up but she turns her direction and puts her hand on my forearm. “My daughter has twins,” she offers.