Holding you with many hands

My one-year old slips out again. I hold serious reservations about returning to work, as I run out of the door. Nobody else could manage him.

He is merrily playing with puppies in the backyard, as their dog mother keeps an eye firmly on her brood. I see my baby getting excited about a shiny car outside and rushing towards the gate. Before I can catch him, the dog mother stands firmly in his way with a growl. Her own pups back away on seeing her stare.

A mother brings up her child with many hands, not just two.

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