Moominmamma

I’ve weathered floods in the parlor and ants in the pantry, all with a kiss, a bandage, and the right tool from my bag. My son seeks adventure, my husband writes his memoirs, but me? I prefer the quiet miracle of a dry sock and a full belly. Snufkin comes and goes, Little My shouts her truth, and the Groke lingers at the edge — but here, in our round white house, everyone finds a place by the fire.