These bees my kidds.
The light to my day, the thirteen-trips-per-night-out-of-bed to my slumber.
My bike riding pals, my frog catching prodigies.
The giggles when I would rather be quiet with my thoughts, the deafening silence when I am.
My deep questioners, my profound conundrums.
Every bit their papa, all of them their mama.
Great back scratchers, willing back scratchees.
What gives me purpose to my every hour, what leaves me breathless at even the earliest.
My joys, my lessons, my enlightenment, my wonder.
A calling, mine. A teacher, theirs.
The ones who laugh on command, ever always good sports for their mama, the would-be photographer.