Three Pictures

Sometimes, when I'm all alone and feeling nostalgic, I like to pretend that I've gone back in time and I'm sitting next to my younger self.  I tell my younger self all kinds of important things.  I usually visit my younger self when she's in college, probably because it was the most up-and-down part of my life and I spent a lot of time wondering how things would work out.

Last night I played a fun game where I showed my younger self the three most recent pictures of my kids.  Here are the pictures and here's what my younger self had to say about them:

Me: Here's your oldest child.   What do you think about that? 

 

Younger Self:  I have a French kid?  You're joking!  She looks...adorable and contemplative and...awesome.  She can't be mine.  Really?!  That's my kid?  There's no way.  Okay, if you say so!  I bet she's amazing.

Me:  Here's your youngest child.  What do you think about him?

 

Younger Self:  A baby BOY?!  Really?  In overalls?  That nose!  Those cheeks!  Are you sure he's mine?  How adorable is that kid?!  I'll take him!  What a precious baby.  

Me:  Here's your middle child.  What do you think about her?..........

 

 

Younger Self:  Oh, yeah. Yup.  No doubt.  She's totally my kid.  

I enjoyed that little exchange with my younger self and it got me to thinking....

Sylvia and Albert have turned out to be kids I never would have DREAMED about in a million years.  Never.  I never would have thought I'd have those kids.  They're amazing!  They're cool!  They're beyond my wildest dreams!!! 

But Margot?  Margot is the kid I always dreamed I'd have. She's amazing and cool, but....she's me.  She's mine.  She's the kid of my dreams!

And I don't think it's better one way or the other, I just think it's interesting.  I consider myself beyond blessed to have these three tiny miracles in my house, but the way they are turning out is so fun to watch!  They're all so special and so amazingly different from each other.  I love that I have kids who are more than I could hope for and I love that I have (at least) one kid who is turning out to be the spitting image of her mother.  I'd like to think there are worse ways to turn out.