Quiet

I raised only one daughter.  Quiet was a thing of beauty at our home.  She was either in her room or outside or watching televison.  There was no:  "He took Buzz!" or "He tore up my legos!"  or "I want that tractor."  There was the ocassional neighborhood spat with the Nobile boys, or with Bart, or with Reed, or with Edye.  But to those of you who raised more than one child, my hat is off to you.  I don't know if I could have done it.  What I do  know is that my daughter and her husband are great parents with the patience of Job.  Sometimes I wonder why they don't do like Job and tear their clothes and pour ashes on their heads.  The boys are not bad, mind you; it is just that when one is taken care of, another one needs attending to. But my heart absolutely melts when William says, "Will you stay a hundred days?"  or Wes asks me to read a book for the tenth time or Reed slobbers down the front of my blouse then offers me high five.  Life is truly wonderful when I am with them, but it is quiet at my house.