a whisk of one's own

We started preschool. This may be the best thing that ever happened to us.
Jo did wear shoes to school, I promise. Millie still wears those heels everywhere.
Their outfits match their inner selves so very well.
Their teacher is terrific, and the environment perfect. I get reports back that the girls are a little, mmm, 'wild.' Ah, well, yes they are.

Hazel thinks preschool is a good idea too. The first time I dropped the twins off, Hazel started fussing and pointed to the two empty carseats next to hers. I asked, "Aw, Hazey, do you miss your sisters?" An emphatic reply came in a shaking of her little golden head. She wanted to sit in their chairs and play with their toys.
Of course.
So little Hazel and I have been spending some quality time together. We go to the library and pick out books she wants. But, let me tell you, this little girl is Trevor incarnate. Where did she run to first? The comic books. Yep. She's a daddy's girl through and through. 
Ah, a whisk of one's own. I think this may be Hazel's favorite part of her sisters' twice-a-week absence.

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