Here we are in the other family car.
Notice the boys rubbing elbows.
Tsega has tears. He usually does in the car. Can you guess why?
I know what he's thinking. Sabatoogie.
The minivan died. It had been ours since we became a family. It was kind of a twisted symbol of our life in Kansas. The boys used to spit milk all over the back seat. I remember milk streaks all over the inside and a very funky smell. Oh yeah, we locked a cat inside by accident once or twice for a long time (cat OK). My dad refused to drive in it and the smell or pet hair made my mom sick once. I feel like my America Dream is going up in smoke. We went from minivans, rural life and working on our own house to...
Squishy! Each of my little triplets has no idea about personal space and each learned how to talk really loud or else let the stimulation swallow his voice. I picture the boys screaming at their friends in college, "HEY!! DUDE!!!!! HEY DUDE!!!!!????? YOU GOTTA PENCIL!!!??? We're really loud on the metro too. It's like they still share a womb. They just can't keep their adorable little hands off each other or be quiet for just a little while longer...