Three Little Whirlwinds

These are my children:

These are my children.

Milo, Wyatt and Duncan


It’s possible for them to look like this…


But more often they look like this.


Or this.


Or this.

They are a colorful bunch.

They’ve always been a colorful bunch…


Crazy for capes…


And bikes…


And books…


And scooters.


This is the only time they stop moving.


They are a handful, to say the least.

I wouldn’t want it any other way.

At age eight and the oldest of the bunch, big brother Wyatt is a great reader, an adventurous eater, and a big thinker, always bursting with fantastic ideas about anything and everything.  He likes to talk.  A lot.  I mean, a lot, a lot.  It is terrible the number of times I have heard myself tell him, “Please just stop talking to me for ten minutes!  Just ten minutes, please!!”

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Duncan, our redheaded middlest child, is a extremely active kid, a nonstop ball of energy, and yet he has this this inner sensitivity and vulnerability that seems at odds with his outward physicality.  Something about this combination seems to draw people to him; he has no trouble making friends.  Duncan is five years old and loves the color pink, rainbows, hippopotamuses and superheroes.

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Little Milo, nearly three, has a great propensity for mess-making (he gets that from me).  He refuses to take the blame for his messes, despite overwhelming evidence to the contrary.  He has an idiosyncratic way of speaking, using “my” in place of “I”, “me” or “mine”.  A favorite declaration is,  “Nope, my not did dat.”  His life is a nonstop quest to keep up with his big brothers.  Case in point: He began riding a scooter a few short weeks after learning to walk.   He is exceptionally fond of chocolate, or “chockit”, as he calls it.

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Floyd is the family dog.  He is perfect.

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