Will's tufty mane, and the way the light shines right through Evi's fine, candyfloss hair communicate more about what's really magical in the world in a way no words ever could.
Sometimes I recoil from the awesome responsibility of shaping their lives. Clothing and feeding them is one thing, but helping them flourish in this world entirely another.
But when you see your own eyes looking back at you.
When you're little girl shouts "Daddy!!" and nearly runs you over when you manage to be home before bed time.
When you and your little boy go riding on your bikes together.
When all three of you get covered in flour rolling out pizza dough.
When you hold them close when their upset.
When Mummy rolls her eyes at the three kids making too much noise.
When all four of us are killing ourselves laughing on the trampoline.
When we're all painting.
When they're gazing with awe at the tomatos they've grown.
It's not something to ponder or question. It's not work, it's not a priveledge, it's not fun. It's not an endless quest for patience and stoicism in the face of broken sleep.
It just is.
Yet perfectly clear in those chestnut tufts and that cloud of illuminated candyfloss.