Endless.

Courtesy of oneword.com, I present to you: Endless.

She wiped the final spot of spilt milk off the countertop. Seconds later, three young boys, accompanied by three older boys, with three still older girls tore into cabinets, turning on faucets, spilling cereal on countertops. And just as it started, it stopped. She thought to scream, but it was futile — the routine was endless with three sets of hungry triplets. She began to clean again, waiting for something to break, something to fix, something to kiss.

She wouldn’t have it any other way.

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