I always miss them when they’re gone to their daddy’s house for the weekend, and it brings happiness to see them when they get home. It brings me sheer joy that on the rare occasion they love each other just a little bit, and even more joy that sometimes I can snap a quick photograph – but I have to be quick about it.
And then, in a swift moment they realize “eww, get off me, get away from me, I don’t care if this makes mom happy, gross, sick, mooooooove, why are you laying on me?”
I’m glad I didn’t get the picture of her rolling to the floor and the kicking/pillow bashing match that soon followed – I have enough of those memories etched in my head. Sisterhood. I may never understand it.