Four.

Adi. My middle child. She’ll be four on Friday. She’s sassy. Strong willed. Stubborn. Opinionated. Kindhearted. Spicy. Feisty. … and exhausting. Her favorite hobby is pestering her older sister and pushing limits- she’s a master at both. The last few years, as each of her birthdays has approached, I’ve told myself, “she’s just like that because she’s two…three…” Now as we prepare to celebrate four, I’m coming to terms that THIS IS Adi.

The weeks leading up to this birthday have been full of turbulence. Bumps in waking up, going to bed, and at most points in between. We’ve tried everything from hugging it out to going to our own separate corners to cool down.

This past weekend, as I was in the middle of braiding her older sister’s hair after a shower, she sauntered into the bathroom holding her water cup. “Can you get me some water?” she asked.

“Can you ask Dad? I replied. “He is in the kitchen you know.” I’m not sure how he always manages to be invisible in times of need.

She headed in the direction of the kitchen where I listened in as she demanded, “get me water…” before throwing in a “please”.

“Hang on,” Arnauld replied. He was finishing up washing dishes from lunch.

Adi made her way back to the bathroom with her cup. I told her she should wait in the kitchen. “Dad will need your cup in just a second.”

She then proceeded to hang onto the bathroom door. “He said to hang on,” she said as she dramatically hung onto the door, throwing her head back so that her curls almost touched the floor.

“She knows what he meant,” Wren rolled her eyes as I wrapped an elastic at the bottom of her braid. “She’s just being ridiculous.”

This is Adi.