Angels and Underwear

As I ran in the house after picking Matthew up from choir, Sarah quickly grabbed my keys and head out with her two sisters in tow.

"Hey, where are you girls heading?" I asked.

"We're heading to Young Women to make underwear!" Analisa replied.

 Eyebrows raise, mouth drops, "Huh?"

"For Pioneer Trek, mom. They do that kinda of thing here," they shouted as they they drove off.

I ran upstairs and watched the car turn the corner and fade from my bathroom window. My heart quietly threw up a prayer that angels would watch over my angels and get them safely to their destination.

The only sound sweeter that the pitter patter of bare, chubby toddler feet walking on hardwood floor is the sound of three giggly teenagers walking through the front door and shouting, "Mom, we're home!"

I 've been experiencing growing pains as this whole driving/dating thing  has come to fruition. I feel like my thoughts are a constant prayer. Who knew these babies would grow up and keep you up at night for reasons other than nursing? I sure didn't.

Brett wants to know:  "Is there anything I can do about obsessed boys that doesn't involve a firearm?"