Overheard

6:30 am, mother tiptoes around house hoping the little people will sleep just a minute longer.

Stopped in her tracks, she hears them stir. Don't move, she thinks, and they might think it was the cat. Like playing, "mouse" she holds her breath and listens for any more activity behind the door.

"Finn?" the four year old whispers from her bed.

No response.

"FINN?" she whispers with more intention.

"Whad?" the sleepy brother responds, unhappy to be questioned at such an early hour.

"I love ya', Buddy." she declares and rolls over.

"EEE TU (his version of me, too)" he mutters.

(drip)

Mom's tears hit the floor like Niagra Falls, but no one heard but me.