They are my monkeys

The boys were a grappling tangle of spindly arms and legs. Fingers snatched handfuls of hair and teeth gnashed down on tender skin. When a coffee table got kicked over, the crash of glass and wood brought down the wrath of the Grand Dam. “What’s this kerfuffle?” Grandma O’Reilly stomped into the room, pulling the wrestling … Continue reading They are my monkeys