Killer

“How’s my little Kinsey? What did you do at preschool today?”

“We made puppets and mine had a lot of glitter and it spilled everywhere, but Miss Martinez said it was okay.” My adorable little girl goes on and on about the trials and tribulations of being three years old while I lock the front door of Sousa MMA.

By the time Britt and I make it to the car, the boys are loudly arguing over which one of them runs faster. The whole time, Kinsey is still giving a play-by-play commentary on crafting puppets. Britt breaks up the fight while I strap Kinsey in her seat. Britt and I have to tag team Gabe and Luke, wrestling them into their car seats before we drop, exhausted, into our own seats.

I start the car and look over at my wife, my love, my soul mate. The woman who pulled me from darkness and showed me beauty in the light. She threads our fingers together and smiles while the three kids battle over which superhero is the best, Superman, Batman, or Wonder Woman. It’s chaos and love. Arguments and hugs. Boo-boos and sweet kisses.

It’s absolute perfection.

* * *