Scene: The Charming Loft, just after Killian proposed to Emma.

“I can’t believe they went deeper into the curse for me,” Killian rasped, looking down at the couple lying peacefully on the bed.

Emma tightened her grip on Killian’s hand as she watched her parents. Their support, their love for her still overwhelmed her sometimes. She hoped she had the strength to always put others first, as well. But…how would they cure them? They’d exhausted so many options, and with the Black Fairy threatening the town and everyone in it, Emma didn’t know how she could ignore the impending actions of Gold’s mother in favor of saving her family.

Neal whimpered from his cradle, and Regina rose to pick him up. As she lifted the child into her arms, she remarked, “It doesn’t surprise me. I can’t believe they didn’t leave Storybrooke all those years ago.” She shook her head as she swayed Neal back and forth.

Henry moved to take his grandfather’s hand.

Emma noticed the sad and defeated lines of her son’s face and curled her free hand around Killian’s bicep, her heart aching. “What do we do now?”

“I’m not sure,” Regina said with a sigh. “I wish I knew were Blue has gone to. The fairies can’t find her.”

Alarmed, Emma shared a look with Killian.

“What do you mean?” Henry asked, concerned.

Once Neal quieted, Regina returned him to his bed. “I’m not sure there’s cause for worry. She does this from time to time. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s searching for something that will break this curse.”

Emma let out a slow breath, relieved to hear there might be a simple explanation. “Should we wait for her?”
“I don’t think we can afford to.” Regina perched on the edge of the bed.

“What about your sister?” Killian suggested. “Would she have an idea of what might break this foul torture?”

Regina shook her head. “The two of us spent all day working on the cure that only ended up weakening Snow and David’s hearts. We’re all out of ideas.”

Silence met Regina’s statement. As despair descended on the occupants, Emma racked her brain for something that might work. She was not a connoisseur of magic, but she’d paid attention over the years. A thought surfaced. “What about another sapling? One that holds the magic of true love? If it can imprison great evil, maybe it can also set it free.”

Regina frowned. “Maybe, but a sapling is very rare. The first time I’d ever heard of this type of magic was when Blue mentioned it.” She lifted her brow and cocked her head to the side. “But…”

Emma watched Regina’s mind work. Had they landed on something that might bring a solution? Hope filtered through the despondency inside Emma. She couldn’t let her parents sleep within the darkness anymore. She had to save them.

After running her hands over her arms, Regina shrugged. “We could try what you’ve suggested, but the beacon Blue sent up only located one sapling in Storybrooke.”

“In another land then,” Emma urged, warming to the idea. Her heart thumped hard as hope grew even more.
“Yes, but which realm and whose?” Regina questioned. “We don’t have the time to spare in search of something so rare and elusive. We can’t—”

“Mom,” Henry interrupted, gazing intently at Emma. “You might have one. You and Killian.”

She shared a look with her fiancé before replying. “Do you think so?”

Excited, Henry’s eyes danced with excitement. “You passed the ultimate true love test. Why wouldn’t you have one?”

“But, Henry,” Regina broke in, “even if you’re right, it’s not here. And—”

“It could be anywhere,” Killian added.

Emma tipped her head to the side. “Well, not anywhere.”

Killian turned her to face him. “We’ve been to Neverland, the Enchanted Forest, New York, Camelot—”

“I know, but it’s made by the very first spark, right?” Emma glanced at Regina for confirmation.

“That’s what Blue said.” Regina gestured toward them. “When did your feelings for each other begin?”

As she gave Killian her attention once more, Emma answered, “For me, it was at the top of a beanstalk.”

Taken aback, Killian didn’t immediately respond. “How…I mean…” He shook his head. “You left me there. How could that be when you felt the first stirrings for me?”

With a little grin, she shrugged. “I told you I couldn’t take the chance that I was wrong about you. I felt an attachment to you then. But, even though I was drawn to you, I was too afraid to trust it. Besides, why would I get involved with a man who had no ties to my family or Storybrooke? Whatever it was you caused to happen inside me didn’t matter. I didn’t think you would stay. However, I couldn’t keep my heart from flipping every time you looked my way.”

He stared at her, stunned. “I never expected…” He blinked then let out a noise of disbelief. “I would have to agree with you, love, that if our sapling exists, it’s at the top of a beanstalk.”

“Can we afford for you to be wrong, though?” Regina questioned. She rose and paced the length of the bed. “Perhaps there’s a way to be sure. I can make a true love mixture from strands of your hair, then use it to locate any sort of true love object you left behind using the globe in Gold’s shop.” As she thought, she narrowed her eyes. “Yes, I think I can do that.” She shook a finger. “The Talisman Spell Book. It should have something about that.”

“Let’s take what you need from Mom and Killian then go to your vault,” Henry suggested. He was already heading for the door.

Regina looked at Snow and David, and Emma’s heart twisted at the uncertain expression on the woman’s face. “This will work,” Emma promised Regina and silently promised them.

“I hope so,” Regina whispered then she took a hair from Emma and Killian and followed Henry out.

Relatively alone, Emma let out a weary sigh and rested her temple on Killian’s shoulder. He kissed the crown of her head. The quiet descended, but was soon disrupted by the light crying of Neal.

Emma slipped from Killian’s hold and went to care for her brother. She checked the time and noticed he needed to be fed. While she cradled him in one arm, she prepared a bottle.

Boots scuffed on the wood planks as Killian drew near. “I’m sorry I let Gideon trap me on the Nautilus.”

“I’m sorry I thought you had truly left.” Emma leaned against the counter as she fed Neal.

“What happened while I was gone?” he asked.

She looked up at him and shrugged. “You know, spiders coming through portals, arguments with Gold, hunts for pixie flowers, and a drunk mother. The usual.”

His brow drew down. “A drunk mother?”

After letting out a soft chuckle, Emma explained. “Girls night out ended up with Snow challenging a bunch of Vikings to a hatchet toss. Loser paid the bill.”

“And?” Killian’s gaze gleamed with merriment.

“Didn’t have to pay for a single drink.” Emma caught the note of pride in her tone.

He laughed. “I’m not surprised she won, but remind me to trust your mother’s aim even after one too many.”

She gave him a soft smile then silence settled once more. They looked at each other, and Emma’s heart flooded with gratefulness. “I’m so glad you’re home.”

“When the bean didn’t work, and I ended up in Neverland, I must admit I was worried.” He rubbed the back of his neck, then leaned against the counter. “But I never would’ve stopped trying to get back to you.”

Emma gently withdrew the bottle to lift Neal to her shoulder. As she gazed at the man who was now her fiancé, his statement reminded her of the conviction she had doubted. “After everything that’s happened, all the battles we’ve fought with success, sometimes I still get scared we won’t win.” She flicked her gaze to the area where her parents slept. Neal cooed while he slumbered on her shoulder, and she touched her cheek to his soft hair.

“That’s what a villain does, love. Makes you feel like all hope is gone, but…” He straightened and came around the counter to where she was. He raised his hand to stroke her hair. “As you can see, it’s not. We’re together again. We have a possible way to save your parents. It’ll be all right.”

His support, even before they were a couple, had been something she’d not only appreciated, but depended on. Her thoughts went back to the moment she’d seen his ship on the horizon. That image would always be clear in her mind, reminding her when the first rays of hope had clutched her heart.

He lowered his arm, and his soft and adoring look drew her in. She leaned forward and gave him a light kiss. Neal never made a sound. “I think he’s done eating. He’s such a chunk.”

Killian chuckled lightly as she walked over to the cradle and gently laid her brother inside. Would her idea work? If she and Killian did have a sapling, would they be able to get to it? She let out a breath and tilted her head back.

Killian came up behind her and placed his hand on her shoulder. “It’s a sound idea. We’ll find our baby tree, and the light inside it will diminish the darkness in your parents’ hearts.”

She turned and slid into his arms. “You’re right. I know it. I can feel it deep inside me.”

“All that hope talk your mother gives you is finally paying off.” He stroked her back.

She made a noise of rueful agreement. “It worked on you, too.”

“Well, it also helped that you broke through my villainous ways like a cannon blast.” He pulled away enough to look down at her. “I knew you’d been abandoned same as me, but there you were, fighting so damned hard for love. Whether you knew it or not. And you battled for everyone. Even Regina. That sincerity, coupled with your challenge that I try to be someone better…” He shook his head in amazement. “I’ll never forget any of those early moments with you, Emma. You made me want to shed the mantle of vengeance. I’ll forever be grateful.”

“And I’ll always remember how I felt when I saw your ship on the horizon, coming back to the docks.” She smiled softly at him. “That was the first time I was glad to see someone come to my rescue.”

“The first time, eh? So there was a second?” He grinned at her.

She rolled her eyes. “Just because there was a first doesn’t mean a second time occurred.” She went back to the kitchen to make some coffee.

“I recall you informing me that the only who saves you is you.” He leaned against the counter again.

She scooped ground beans into the filter. “True words. Very true.” She glanced at him, feeling good and glad she bantered with him once more. “Of course, I’m pretty certain I would’ve fallen into the darkness and crushed Merida’s heart if you hadn’t shown up when you did.” She shook her head as she pushed the funnel into the coffee maker. “Always in the nick of time.”

A rueful chuckle came from him. “It’s just our way, love. Have to keep the heart pumping with suspense, hmm?”

After clicking on the machine, she linked her thumbs in her back pockets and drifted to his side. He watched her come, his gaze heating with each step that brought her closer to him. And the glittering desire in his blue depths made hunger curl inside her. “There are other things that make my heart go pitter-patter.”

With a lift of an eyebrow, he replied, “And what’re those?”

In answer, she raised her lips to his and kissed him, softly, slowly. She savored what his touch could do to her, how the feel of him sent her pulse racing. But it was the promise of his love, of his steady support that made her want to drown in him. That conviction she’d detected at the top of a beanstalk had turned her head and made her keep looking his way.

She let out a breath of need and pressed against him, wanting more, needing everything that was him. But now was not the time. She pulled back, breaking their kiss.

He touched his forehead to hers and stroked her jaw. “Later, my darling?”

She nodded.

The door opened and she and Killian broke apart.

“We got it to work,” Henry announced as he entered carrying the translucent globe. “Y’all have a sapling, but we can’t tell where it is.”

Emma reared back. “It’s not in Tiny’s castle?”

The click of Regina’s heels sounded on the wood floor as she followed in behind Henry. She shut the door. “The area doesn’t look at all like a crumbling down fortress.” She gestured toward the globe. “You’ll see.”

Confused, Emma stepped toward where Henry had placed the magical object on the table. Killian and Regina moved in behind her.

Henry’s gaze was lit with interest and curiosity. “The place is not Camelot or Neverland. It doesn’t even look like the Enchanted Forest to me.”

Her mind tumbling with questions, Emma shook her head. “But a sapling is made by the first spark. And ours was at the top of a beanstalk.”

“Maybe the first time you met, wasn’t the first time you met,” Henry said, one corner of his mouth quirked in excitement.

“Come again, lad? You think Emma and I met before we…met?” Killian curled his hands around the back of a chair.
Emma let out a breath. “It doesn’t sound any clearer put that way.”

“But it makes perfect sense,” her son argued. “It’s the only explanation. Watch.” He opened a vial of potion made from the strands of Emma and Killian’s hair and let one drop fall on the needle at the top of the globe.

Wisps of white smoke swirled and danced inside until a scene appeared, clear and beautiful. The landscape made Emma catch her breath, and she took a step back.

“I don’t recognize the place at all,” Killian remarked. “It’s my kind of view, though. That lake is like crystal.”

Emma blinked, unable to comprehend what was before her. She swallowed. Her attention was drawn to the tiny tree, green and healthy, curling not ten yards from a log cabin. “Is that the sapling?”

“Yes,” Regina answered. “But, surely you can see that it lives in an area we aren’t familiar with.”

“How can our baby tree be in a land we know nothing of? Do the sparks travel before they bury themselves in the ground?” Killian leaned forward, assessing the scene with a careful eye.

“I highly doubt that,” Regina offered. “It’s not as if they have a plane to catch.”

An exasperated exhale came from Killian, but before he could speak, Emma whispered, “I know where this is.”

“You do?” Regina replied, surging forward.

“Where is it?” Henry asked, his eager tone revealing his continual love of the surprises of magic.

Killian put his hand on her forearm, turning her toward him. “You recognize this place, love?”

Emma nodded slowly. She knew it well. The cabin. The lake. The overgrown path that led down to a rocky shore. But…Killian had never been there. At least, not that she could remember. “It’s…It’s in Minnesota.”

Chapter Two will be posted, Sunday, November 25th.

Kara needs a kick ball.  She can’t find it.  Oh, yeah!  She kicked it over the fence.  She dashes over to the neighbors and collects her beloved red ball and now sets out to put together her dream team.  

Maria is collecting the Childcraft Encyclopedia books, getting ready to play school.  Hmm, today they will work on animals, she thinks. Two desks are set up in her room and now all she needs are students.

Wendy has piled every doll she owns onto her bed. She is singing to them and loving on them and hoping someday they will come alive and call her Mommy.  

Bill is sitting in the living room, watching his mother fold the laundry as he bangs two Hot Wheels cars together.  His dimpled smile shows how happy he is to be playing.

Jack is in the garage, looking for nails.  He is going to nail boards to the tree for the steps to his tree house.  Soon, there will be carpet put in and a cooler up there for snacks.  Everyone will be welcome, except for the girls, of course.

Roxi is pulling a dress out of her dress-up trunk.  She puts it on, along with a hat, and high heels and admires her gorgeous reflection.  Already her style and taste are beyond her years.

Lela is pulling out her plastic kitchen supplies, preparing to cook a meal for anyone with enough imagination for pretend spaghetti.  Her little kitchen is correctly appointed with all the necessary supplies and now all she needs are customers.

Georgie runs in from the living room and announces to his mother that he needs pipe cleaner, a paper plate, a rubber band, and green paint.  As Grace scrambles to provide, he dashes outside to continue digging his hole that will eventually reach China.

Phillip has piled up all the leaves in his backyard.  It is the perfect amount to provide a soft landing and to completely hide him…should the need arise.  He’d like to see China, but Georgie can do the digging.

Alex is wearing her sequins and white gloves and is in the correct pose.  The Flashdance album blasts her with, “Oh, What A Feeling”, and she busts into her newly choreographed number.

Blossom is in her room, ignoring the music and lining up her pretty ponies.  All the colors of the rainbow, she gets out a brush and begins to comb through their manes, humming to herself.  But, not humming, “Oh, What A Feeling”.

Now, imagine all of us in the same room…

As Jo would say, “They’re all geniuses and Pablo Picassos!”.  Grace just laughs and shakes her head, and Mom hopes we don’t kill each other.

Two girls were introduced into our mix. They enjoyed various types of dance, so they fit right in.

And now, we really outnumbered the boys!

The oldest was my age and we became quick friends. She became friends with Jack, too, and was often the tie breaker in our schemes.

The youngest was in between Maria and Roxi and had every My Little Pony a girl could wish for.

Our circle was getting bigger and bigger, and that was better in my mind. They had great ideas for plays and recitals, and didn’t mind playing Hide-and-Seek, so when Maria got bored we didn’t have to stop because of the low number of hiders.

They went to our church, too. Everything always seemed to center around church.

The oldest loved the album “Flashdance” as well as the movie. We danced to that album I don’t know how many times. (I never saw the movie until I was older, though. My mom wouldn’t let me watch it.)

I am going to call her Alex after the girl from that movie. Her younger sister, I am going to call Blossom, on account of all the ponies she had.

They were, and are beautiful girls. Witty, lively, and VERY smart, we ruled the boys!

And that was awesome!

“That one!”, I shout pointing at the clock on the wall.

“No,” Jack disagrees.  “Let’s use the one in the playroom!”

“But it’s not round!” I point out.

Jack puts his hands on his hips and glares at me.  “It’s not attached to the wall, either!”

We argue, again wasting precious seconds of play time.  Roxi and Maria are giggling in the corner, Phillip in between them, waiting for us to settle our clock dispute.  Georgie (short for Gorgeous) is listening avidly, searching for his chance to jump in and calm things down.

Eventually he appeals to my sensible side.  “The one on the wall is probably special and if we break it, we’ll get in trouble.”

This halts all arguments and Jack and I decide the playroom clock is the better clock.

We grab it and bring it back to Roxi’s room.

“Okay, we can start!” I announce, while Jack puts the square clock on the ground in the center of the room.  

“Does everyone remember what they are supposed to do?” I ask.

Everyone nods and Roxi and Maria start up their giggling again at the boys.  We all take our places around the clock, while Georgie turns on the record player and sets the needle down.  Quickly, he moves into his spot.

Bill Haley busts out with “One, two, three o’clock, four o’clock rock” and we all start kicking our legs and twitching our hips as we dance around the clock.

Well…it was dark outside so we couldn’t build a fort…

And, with our introduction to American Graffiti and Brian Wilson, doo wap becomes a big part of our lives.

We didn’t start the fire, and neither did she, but she certainly kept the flame burning bright…

My grandmother was born in Kansas, the baby of six children.  Her father died when she was 6, and she never knew her eldest sister because she died at the age of 2.

She was a farm girl, a valedictorian, a football queen, and a college graduate.

She taught English for 30 years, was Teacher of the Year, District, and Region and started the Public Library for that small town in South Texas that probably had the first drug store.

She had two children while she continued to work…

She was the original working mother.  

And one night I had the privilege of sleeping in the same room with her and she spoke about the beauty of the nominative participle…until 1 a.m.

There is much to say about her, but I think the poem I wrote in college says it best…

I remember how she used to touch her hair,
and how she labeled all her Tupperware.
I remember when she was Salutatorian at 13 and Valedictorian at 18.
I hope I learn to say “I” instead of “Me”,
and that a deck of cards was missing its 3.
I remember she ate poached eggs for breakfast, had tea at 4:00,
and her students were silent when they heard her steps upon the floor.
Teaching English was her calling, and rightly so, her first students were her dolls,
she taught people all they needed to know.
After praying before a meal, she would always get that look upon her face,
and we knew what she was about to say –
“Did we say grace?”
I remember 40 tubes, with mirrors attached, of Instant Mocha lipstick,
and designer hose bought from Neiman Marcus.
I remember that shade of taupe she always wore,
and how she fooled her husband and didn’t get
her wedding ring melted to the core.
I remember how she said, “Goodnight!”, when she was shocked,
and how her 1000 books were organized into a card catalog.
The library would not have been possible without her,
nor would my education for that matter.
I remember how she put wax paper between her pans,
and that her favorite song could be held in the palm of your hand.
She loved the Aggies, and was once a football queen.
She was always quite the lady it seemed.
Whenever I watch the Sound of Music, I think of her.
Whenever I read the Lockhorns, I think of her.

I will always be able to feel how much she loved her husband and family.
I will always be proud of how much she accomplished
and how much she loved to learn.
And I hope I will learn to be a lady like no other –
A lady like my grandmother.

The cement is white, making the blinding sun reflect right into your face and the sweat bead at your hairline.  Texas in the summer…

The parking lot is full of cars for this is the only grocery store around for five miles and he parked all the way in the back.

The handles of grocery bags are cutting into his fingers and he’s carrying three in each hand.  It was, of course, his idea to go to the store because he is going to make goulash.

He is breathing hard for he is in his seventies and his strength isn’t what it used to be.

My brother is with him and Bill is walking fast, trying to get to the car where there is air conditioning and a chance to get out of the blazing heat.

But, the older gentleman stops and tells Bill to wait.  





Bill turns around and to his surprise, he watches as a seventy-year-old, already well into retirement, with sweat sliding down the sides of his face, sets his heavy burden down to pick up a penny on the ground.  

He puts it in his coin holder, picks the bags back up, and says, “Okay.  I got it.”

He is my granddad.  A genius.  A hard worker.  Son to immigrants from Spain.  A survivor of the depression.  A college graduate in a time when college wasn’t important.  A pharmacist.  A husband.  A father.  A no-nonsense kind of guy who used the word “hooey” a lot.

For 50 years he served ice cream (Blue Bell only) and medicine to people in a pretty small town in South Texas.  His father started the store around 1919 and he kept it going with his brother.  It was Granddad’s idea to put the pharmacy in the ice cream parlor.  I sometimes wonder if he was the first person to think of it…

A drug store.

It had stools that swiveled.  I sat there and swiveled and swiveled and swiveled and ate vanilla ice cream.

Granddad was funny.  And he could do magic tricks.  And he would empty out the mustard and ketchup bottles, put string in them, and then hide behind the counters, preparing to jump out and “squirt” you.

He LOVED Wil E. Coyote.  We would watch those cartoons and half the time I would crack up just because he was laughing so hard.  I never really thought they were funny.  I don’t know why the coyote kept going after the road runner.

I am an adult now and I would have to say that I find them a lot funnier in my old age.  I wonder what that means…

Granddad devoted his life to his parents, his family, and his church.  

When we sat down to dinner, he would come around and kiss the top of our heads before we said grace.

And he always said, “Get what you want, but eat what you take.”

Which means -- never take on more than what you can handle.  But, if you take it on, then do it well.

God bless him…

Mashed potatoes.
Pot roast.
Gravy.
Bread.
Butter.
And jelly.

There was always jelly on her table.  There were always white mounds of creamy and buttery potatoes.  Her potatoes melted in your mouth like ice cream.  It was glorious…

She had figurines all over her house and sofa pillows with flowers on them.  She had two china cabinets filled with dishes and no dishwasher.

She played Scrabble and Skip-Bo and kept Blue Bell in the freezer.  (If you aren’t from Texas, Blue Bell is the best ice cream in the country.)




She is a third generation Texan, born to migrant workers, and picked cotton throughout her childhood.  She has no more than a third grade education, but has more wisdom than most PhDs.

She is my grandma.

She married Grandpa at 17 and had four children.  She lived her life to take care of her family and followed Grandpa’s orders without argument.

Some disapproved of her choice to play the role of servant.

But she was married for 54 years and her husband held her hand until the day he died.

We should all be so lucky…

I am stealing this title from my sister.  When she was in the second grade she wrote a story about our grandpa and called it “A Funny Fella”.  When he read it, it was the first time I’d ever seen him cry.  The second time came four days before he died.

He was the second oldest in a family of 13, however, he was still the S.I.C.  Or, in other words, the Sibling In Charge.

He did most of the cleaning, most of the care-taking, and earned most of the money for his family.  His parents were Jehovah’s Witnesses and, among other things, they didn’t believe in working for a living.

Grandpa resented religion.  

Not God…religion.

When he was 14, he went to work for a dairy farmer, milking all the cows and sent every penny he earned to his mother.  The farmer gave him food to eat and a place to sleep.

Despite having to carry his family of 13 children on his 14-year-old shoulders, he always treated his parents with respect.  

He married our grandma when he was 18 and went off to war when he was almost 19.  He was a Sergeant, stationed in Germany, and was the second company into Auschwitz when the war was over.

He worked for Amaco for the rest of his life, had four children, and managed to save his way into a pretty nice retirement.  He gave to the fire department, loved his grandchildren, and took very special care of his wife.

He didn’t respect anyone on welfare, wasn’t afraid to tell people exactly what he thought, had moments where he almost disowned members of his family, and he voted Democrat all of his life.

And…he lived on an acre and a half…and had Go-Carts.  And Doon Buggies.  And he loved Hank and Slim, could play the harmonica, and called me his “special girl”.  (On account of me being the only grandchild with red hair.)

Needless to say, I was pretty enamored of him.  Even though he had a German temper, which is MUCH scarier than an Irish one, he couldn’t scare me.  His bark was always worse than his bite!

And when I was about seven, he gave me the first piece of advice that I carried into adulthood…

“Kara, don’t you drink beer just to throw it all up the next mornin’.”

And, I haven’t.

You won’t believe it…

The confinement, the irrelevant activities, the asinine pay (Stickers? Really?), the mind-numbing speeches, and the out-and-out horror that was Kindergarten, couldn’t keep me from being…

PROMOTED!

Yes, me!  I am in FIRST grade now!  I am six!  Look out world, things are about to get exciting!

So, here I come, flitting into my new first grade class, with my new first grade teacher, in a brand-spankin’ new school, and guess what???

Being six, apparently, doesn’t mean that school is any better, or any different.  It was the same mind-numbing experience.

I was appalled!

I mean, I have a baby brother now.  I change his diapers.  I get him up in the morning.  I give him his bottle.  I am being a mom.

Obviously, I already know everything if I can take care of Bill!  Why couldn’t these teachers see that?

Why did I have to practice putting away my coat and my lunch box, when I knew how to diaper an infant without getting peed on?

I mean, come on!  Wake up and smell the coffee, lady!  I am not some idiot!  I already know how to do the hardest job on earth!

One hundred and seventy seven days…

God save me now…

How strange to have a boy in the house.  And, how exciting.

We all helped Mom.  He belonged to all of us.  And I am sure that confused him, but who wouldn’t want four ladies fawning all over you?

His rear was never wet, his room was never messy, his bottle was always full, and his every coo and babble caused an instantaneous reaction. The oohs and aahhs going on in our house would put any fireworks demonstration to shame.

Yes, we smothered him, but he didn’t seem to mind.  And, Bill being Bill, he understood at a very early age that we meant well.  Our protective moments, our constant assistance was never met by an angry cry.  He let us fuss over him with a sweet smile on his face.

(Of course, he might’ve been milking it.  He didn’t independently clean his room until he was in school.)

Bill was smart.  Ordered, steady, observant, and quiet.  He added calm to the chaos over our home.  And everything was better because of him.

And, while it would be challenging for him to grow up with four women surrounding him, his biggest test was coming…

Failure was not an option.