I sit on my enclosed back porch, watching the littles run around the yard. Through the sprinkler. They are inventing their own games, arguing over rules.
“NO!” My 8 year old daughter shouts, “You have to jump the THIRD time you pass that spot on the grass! You lost! Go back to the beginning!”
I have no clue what she is talking about. She is yelling these nonsense directions to her brother and sister ( 5 and 3.5 years old.)
My youngest is almost 4. She is tough as nails. She hollers back at her sister “No! I don’t wose! YOU wose!” The middle little and only boy, just stands there. Not understanding what the “big deal” is. He is more the silent type and will mostly go along with anything either of the girls say.
I would like to see that each of their personalities stay the same for the most part. I may be biased but each of my 3 littles are so damned cute, well rounded and developed.
I listen to, not what the kids are talking about, but how they are presenting themselves to each other. There is a pecking order among them, one I didn’t really expect. The baby is the BOSS. Try to tell her other wise, I dare you! HA! She is so rough and tumble, its nuts.
My oldest, I always joke, is 8 going on 16. Since the day she was born she has always had that preteen-ness about her. I’m not sure what I will do once she finally does hit that age. Smaaart! Too smart for her own good. Going into the third grade next year she will already be taking advanced placement classes at her school. She wants to be a pathologist and help solves crimes!
And the boy. That’s what we call him, Boy. He loves it. My best bud, loves his mommy. He is so damned agreeable and so handsome it actually hurts to look at him. The Boy will definitely be a heart breaker once he grows up. That’ll be his dad’s problem.