Finding One’s Own Kind

There are lots of kids around here at the resort right now. My son Chris is here with thirteen of his brood; daughter Heidi has her three and Kate’s two, of course, live here, plus a couple more from my daughter-in-law Wendy’s family. Kids mean lots of running, giggling, band aids, s’mores, swimming, wet towels, eating, dishes, wrappers, ice cream. Last night we sat around the camp fire and children heard stories about their parents when they were kids. It was late when things finally got quiet.

This morning Heidi came to our camper with her almost 3-year-old Jackson. I said to Jack, “Let’s go to Uncle Chris’ cabin and see all the kids.” As we walked to the cabin, he spotted almost 4-year-old Priscilla. They threw open their arms and ran toward one another and embraced like long lost friends. It is funny how children will find their kind so easily.

Later Wendy’s mother, Mary Ann, came by our camper and we visited over coffee for over an hour. Two grandmothers finding their kind so easily.

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