We live in one of those big, sprawling complexes that have "waterscaping" -- ponds and waterfalls and little streams with wooden bridges over them. As you might imagine, the local ducks think it's a paradise built just for them, and it's pretty common to see them swimming around and hanging out in pairs.
So earlier today, we were taking a walk, when all of a sudden I spotted four impossibly tiny, fuzzy ducklings hopping out of a stream and waddling across the nearest bridge toward us. Right behind them came their sleek brown mother, keeping a watchful eye, and right behind her, bringing up the rear, was a handsome mallard whom I assume was their dad. Like us, they were out for a Sunday-afternoon stroll as a family, and they were so adorable that G and I could not stop squealing. We backed up to give them some space, they crossed the bridge, and then they slipped into the water on the other side and swam off tranquilly. Oh, we were nearly dead of the cuteness. I wish I had had a camera.
As they were swimming away, though, G leaned over the bridge and called to the ducklings, "You guys are lucky!" I asked "Why are they lucky?" and she said, "Because they get to be with their whole family." Ouch. She never really says anything about P being gone, and to all appearances she's perfectly content with just the two of us, but I always wonder whether she thinks about it. I suppose now I know.