Page 13 of Secret Triplets for Christmas

I was relieved that they were okay with staying and didn’t ask why.

“Now, let’s get breakfast and get you to school.”

Georgie bolted from the bathroom, with Cassie following. Olivia trotted behind them. It was so strange to have conceived them at the same time but they were so different. Then again, while they looked similar, they weren’t identical. Georgie was loud and energetic and often the ringleader when trouble was occurring. Cassie was no church mouse, but much of her energy came from trying to keep up with Georgia. Olivia was the quiet, reserved child. She would rather read than run and was usually smart enough not to get caught up in Georgie’s mischief.

I followed them to the kitchen, where Grayson was already at the table eating, and Miranda was cooking breakfast.

“Eggs and bacon, girls?” she asked.

“Eggs are slimy.” Georgie made a face.

“Yeah.” Cassie copied.

“Not mine.”

“You don’t have to do that,” I said to Miranda. “They’re happy with cereal.”

“I like eggs,” Olivia said.

“I was already making them.” Miranda put eggs and bacon on plates and set them on the table.

“I want cereal—”

“You’ll have eggs,” I told Georgie. I gave her my don’t-argue face.

She huffed out a breath but didn’t argue.

“Hey, Linds, I can take the girls to school today if you like. That will give you time to handle things."

I was glad Miranda didn’t reveal what things I needed to handle. “That would be awesome, thank you.”

“Of course. You’ll keep me posted, right?”

I nodded. “I’m going to call in to work and let them know what’s up and then deal with…” I glanced at the girls. “Things.”

My father entered the kitchen. “What’s all this commotion?”

“It’s just us, Grandpa,” Georgie said around a mouthful of bacon.

He feigned a frown. “Who let you munchkins in?”

The girls giggled. “You did.”

He grinned. “How is everyone this morning?” He kissed Miranda, hugged me, and then went to kiss and hug Grayson and the girls.

“We’re going to school with Gran-Mira and Grayson,” Callie told her grandfather.

I imagined to the outside world it was odd that my father had a son who was less than a year older than his grandchildren. It was weird, but in a wonderful way.

“Girls are gross,” Grayson murmured.

“We are not!” Incensed, Georgie punched Grayson in the arm.

“Hey! Georgie!” Immediately, I pulled her from her chair.

“He said—”

“I know what he said. But we don’t hit.”

---