motherhood
Hanna took the little boy in her arms and pressed her lips to his forehead, before the dogs started to bark, “Do you have to wind them up?” She asked her wife, leaning down to press their lips together with a roll of her eyes, “And now we’re going to have to rush because you know how they get when they’re this impatient.” She watched as the dogs scrambled up the door, letting out eager barks and then sending impatient glances back down to their owners.Â
Henry kept his curious glance on the dogs as Hanna supported the back of his head, with a small shake of her head, “I’m leaving you to deal with that, I’m going to put his mommy is the best t-shirt on.”Â
“No, they know better,” Spencer replied as she kept her eyes on little Henry, smoothing out the few wrinkles in his clothes before Hanna took him from her. “They know that patience is a virtue, something you have yet to learn.” Maybe Hanna was right this time, though, because as Spencer fished their three leashes out of the closet, they were all nudging at her and pacing back and forth. The beach was their favorite thing, and they really didn’t even need the leashes anymore now that they were no longer puppies and well trained, but the leash laws in the state required her to still clip them on. She was also sure to grab a towel because she knew the three of them wouldn’t be able to keep themselves away from the ocean. “Stroller or no stroller?”













