Pickle, if sometimes I look at you with a bewildered look on my face, it is because you’ve just used the word “concentration” or “distract” or “predator” correctly and I have no idea how that is possible. 



Plum, if I laugh at you when I’m supposed to be grumpy at your utter disregard for direction or instruction, it is because you have seen my displeasure, and instead of heeding my request, go your merry way saying simply, “Be HAPPY, Mama!” 


Pistachio, if I spend too much time kissing your wobbly cheeks each evening, and making you chortle, it is because I see my baby turning into a thinking, exploring, social little being and I know you will change into a toddler too soon. 
True, some days bedtime can’t come early enough.  But even on those days, I can’t imagine my luck, my three dear ones.