Seven Two's.

Seven two's at my feet. More milk. I don't want it. Use your spoon Tommy. Stop playing in your peas. More milk! Don't touch him. Are you done?

Seven boys at my table. It's lunch time. Styrofoam plates and plastic spoons placed around the rectangular kiddie furniture. Only a foot and a half from the floor with lime green chairs.

It was a Thursday. Just one more day. I just have to get through one. more. day I thought as I almost pulled my hair from my scalp. (Every bit of it was almost worth the pain and baldness that would have resulted.)

Twenty-two with seven kids. Twenty-two with seven boys. Twenty-two with seven two year old boys.

I'm hunched over, trying to sit at the tiny table, while cleaning tiny fingers from the meal that was supposed to end up in their bellies, but is actually plastered on their shirts. I wipe a sticky palm as I'm day dreaming about God knows what, but God brought something better. Across the room, among the chaos and confusion, I spot a cardinal. He peeped his head from below the window frame, offering me solace. I accepted and smiled.

I smiled for the first time that day, and nothing could take that smile away. Not even the thought that I had six more tiny hands to wipe.