After three daughters, it was only natural that our youngest son should have four mothers. I just wasn’t expecting how tight those sibling-mommy bonds could be.
When one of them forgot to shut the stair gate, I heard the thud of him hitting each step like it was my own body falling. I was the fourth mommy at the scene, running up from the bottom while the other three ran down from the top. I had to fight my way through the crowd to pull his screaming warmth into my jealous arms.
“I’m the mommy,” I foolishly reminded my tear faced daughters....
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