Iris
Six years and a half passed fast, and our lives were full of love, joy and peace — or at least as much peace as the mother of a little cutie rascal could have. When Andre was almost a year and a half old, Jean-Luc and I welcomed our little Emerald, or as we call her, Esmée.
She was running around the house as Andre, Lizzy and I were baking cookies. I kept the kids away from the oven, of course, they just helped me with the dough and with the decoration of the sweets.
“Esmée, didn’t you say you wanted to help me this time? What are you doing?” I asked, smiling at my little ball of energy.
“I will, momma, I am chasing the light!” she giggled, looking at me and running on the sofa to get an impulse and jump higher.
“There is no light, Esmeé,” Lizzy chuckled, shaking her head and
