Meet Oldest. Nine this past July, we can usually find Oldest immersed in a book way too late at night, building fairy villages while singing opera to the neighborhood, or directing a group of children in a play she created herself. She feels things very deeply, has the same sense of humor as her Mama, and insists on teaching herself everything she wants to know. She always has eight thousand projects going at once. When she grows up, she wants to be a zamboni driver, a breast cancer doctor and a writer. She has already published one book and is working on more. Oldest leads with grace. She's creative to a fault. I adore her.
Middlest is our boy, seven this month. Here he is, dangling from a tree. He is usually dangling from something. Middlest will break your heart with his kindness. He will take the blame for others, has amazing, diplomatic negotiating skills with other children, and runs super super super fast. Like his Dad, he's a big guy and may grow up to be a superhero. Upon waking, Middlest says things like, "I had a dream within a dream." He loves numbers, symmetry, and has a couple of dreadlocks. He has overcome a lot in his short life. When he grows up, he wants to play guitar for Mumford and Sons, be a lifeguard and own a candy store. I adore him.
And here's Littlest. She's four and hates sleeping. Sleeping may be her nemesis. Littlest loves her piles of small toys, carrying them around with her, and playing with them for hours. This is the face she makes for every photo opportunity, regardless of apple presence. She will let you read to her all day, no problem, a pile of Littlest on your lap. She enjoys quiet people, gives the biggest squeeze-your-guts-out hugs and is surprisingly intense. Like all four year olds, she is learning to use her power for good. She will probably grow up to be some kind of feisty, energetic activist, but says she wants to be an artist. I adore her.
And there they are.