By Brandy Black
I have two-year-old twins and a 6-year-old daughter. This might be my favorite combined age of all three. They play together (sometimes), they laugh and most importantly they help each other. We, for the first time in two years, sit back and watch until one of them chucks a car at the other’s head. Tonight my wife was working and I made dinner for all three and watched as they danced around the kitchen singing “I want to build a snowman” from our new family favorite soundtrack. Sophia showed Bella how to dance like Elsa so that they could play “Frozen” together. Penn hummed to the music while pushing cars back and forth beneath my legs. When their plates hit the table they all marched over, Bella climbed into her highchair because she no longer requires, or should I say allows our help. Penn stood dangling with one arm waiting to be perched up and Sophia plopped in her chair with her doll Lile beside her. They all use forks, they all chat, at the same time. Our kitchen is loud. I never imagined having a house full of children and a constant buzz of incessant noise. My back turned, adjusting the volume on the speakers, it hit me, all at once, I heard my children. I have children, that fill this house and make it a home. Three very distinct personalities. Bella, assured, bossy, a tomboy–prefers Penn’s clothes, a foodie, independent, distant to strangers giving them the F eye when they look at her. Penn, quiet, happy, always preferring cars, trucks, balls and anything that makes sound, he gives hugs and kisses, and has learned everyone’s name in the house but his own. He adores his sisters above all. Sophia, girly, sassy, full of attitude, thoughtful in ways that I have never been–making things for everyone in the house daily, a kind, gentle, hard-ass sister that doesn’t put up with anything. She rules with an iron fist and a heart of gold.
When dinner was finished Bella got out of her high chair and pulled up a big kid chair to sit between her brother and sister. I gathered their berries and granola for dessert when I heard a loud scream from Penn. I turned to find him holding onto his twin sister who was dangling sideways from the chair. She had a tight grip on his pinkie finger and that hold was the only thing keeping her from hitting the ground. Penn has always been her protector, her hero! The three of them take care of one another in their own unique ways and I’m merely the lucky Mama that gets to sit back and watch their bond grow each day.
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Originally published on The Seattle Lesbian
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