The little family stood out because of the mixed skin colors but mostly because all three children were so young — enough to keep both parents constantly dealing with one or another as they ate dinner at Chick-fil-A in Birmingham on a Saturday evening.
The parents were both white and appeared to be early to mid 30s. A boy who appeared Latino was about 4 years ago. A black boy and girl were both about 2 or 3, I’d guess.
The table was a constant buzz of talk — children asking questions and wanting help, parents correcting and guiding. But it was all orderly and the tone of voice was always loving and kind. One of the boys seemed fascinated by my MacBook and he had trouble understanding his mom’s explanation that it’s impolite to stare at strangers.
After they ate, they pulled out little books and read together. Each child had a different book. I couldn’t tell what the books were all about, but I saw the younger ones pointing to cows and dogs and pigs and correctly identifying each. Both parents worked with each child from time to time.
It was like controlled chaos, but full of love and happiness.

Global warming or a new ice age? Anyone who claims to know is lying
In the old Ginger or Mary Ann debate, I wanted a third choice
How could a stranger at sunset possibly know what I had to say?
Part of me loves you dearly, but warring parts are hostile or afraid
When doubt wakes me at dawn, my world seems a lonely place
It’s hard to shut off our internal chatterboxes to listen to silence
On this website’s 10th birthday, I’m planning for the next decade
I’d forgotten what I said about her necklace, but she hadn’t forgotten
Don’t show me the past or the future; show me what you can give now