I always laughed last summer as I watched how my three kids approached others to play at the park.
“Hi,” one of my then three-year-old twins would say, “What’s your name?”
The kid would respond with their name, before asking back, “What’s your name?”
Without missing a beat, the twin would respond with, “We’re Caden and Brooklyn and Nolan.”
Every time. They didn’t really take a break between the names or make a distinction between the three of them. Just Caden-and-Brooklyn-and-Nolan like it was one word, all in the same breath.
I love that they think like that. That they have this bond together. Surely asking for one of their names is asking for all of their names, right? It would be simply unthinkable not to.
I’m used to having them all around me all the time. Having twins followed pretty quickly by a third, I had full arms right from the very start. Our house is rarely quiet as they run and chatter and fight and scream and sing. Usually at least one is underfoot while the other two are nearby. I’ve asked, “Why are we all occupying the same two-foot space when we live in a 2000-square foot house?” too many times to count, as I sit with one in my lap, another climbs up my back, and a third hovers an inch from my face.
I’m also used to the stares. It’s been so normal for me to wrangle all three in and out of car seats, shopping carts, wagons, and strollers that I forget what it looks like to other people. They’re so close in age it’s natural for people to question whether or not they are twins or triplets, are they multiples at all, which ones are the twins, and just what are their ages anyway. My kids are usually oblivious to these conversations. They’re their own little gang and much more interested in comparing the stickers they received in the checkout line or racing down the sidewalk.
I love the bond they have with each other. I love how they run around the park together and make friends. I love how the closeness in age means I’ll have little sibling spies planted in their schools that can tell me all about what’s going on with the others. (That’s how it will work, right? Maybe?)
{Photo credit: Bekah Walters}
Today is National Siblings Day. I love the idea of a holiday to celebrate siblings, the only people in your life who are there for, well, all of it. It’s not a holiday filled with gifts, cake, and parties, but a time for reflection on how important those sibling bonds truly are. I think about the future and hope the close bonds my children have now at four and two-years-old lay the foundation for strong relationships as they grow up.
{Photo credit: Prall Photography}
I usually forget that we won’t always be occupying the same two feet of space. Kindergarten is just a little bit around the corner for my oldest two. My normal of the past four years will shift and change.
Someday, soon enough, I won’t be able to take a picture like this. At least not so easily. They will be scattered – separate classrooms, separate grades, separate activities – impossible to fit together in the same frame. They won’t run around as much together, my own little ducklings, their own little gang, no more, “Come on! Follow me! Chase me!”
They’ll be off. More independent, more on their own, their individual personalities more obvious. Less inclined to wear matching clothes. And some days I can’t wait for all of that.
But right now, I am thankful that day is not today.
