I read somewhere that the average four-year-old asks 428 questions a day.


I kid. They really are five, but I’m mostly just super emotional about it and have absolutely no evidence to support a decrease in questioning because their six-year-old sister rivals that number on a regular basis, sooo…

Ugh. Five.

They’re clearly super excited about it, even though the birthday girl always talks about how being three was “more easier than all the other numbers.”

And I’m super excited for  them, but motherhood is weird.

You have these little pieces of your heart living and beating outside of your body, walking/running/jumping off of everything they can climb onto and you’re just supposed to be super chill about them growing up and needing you a little less every year, when hello – they’re your heart – you need your heart the same amount every day.

It’s basically science!

But this isn’t about me. It’s about them.
Be real – it’s a little about me because I’m mom, but whatever.

Happy Birthday, sweet babies.
Of which you will ALWAYS be to me.


Spill it.

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