Dear A,

This is the picture that comes to my mind when I think of your childhood.

Hanging upside down from the monkey bars. Climbing to the very tip-top of trees. Running at full speed with your curls flying behind you. Riding roller coasters with your arms up in the air.

You are daring – bold – undaunted. When you fall, you get right back up again. “I’m fine” is your signature line.

When you are asked to make a decision (“What is your favorite color?” or “Do you want cobb salad or a sandwich for lunch?”), you are able to answer confidently and without being swayed by other voices. It’s one of your best qualities. Rather than listening to popular opinion or following the lead of peers, you stand on your own two feet.

Let’s use swim team as an example. You participated last year (at barely age 5). Several months ago, I asked whether you would like to join again. You pondered for a moment from the back seat of the car and then responded with poise and assurance, “I will do it if I can go one day, then not the next, then not the next. That’s an ABB pattern.”

On our homeschool days, you are generally eager, motivated, and cheerful. You enjoy learning new things and catch on to new concepts quickly.

Your on-campus school days, however, have been disappointing for you. You expected painting, clay, stories, and colorful workbooks at Kindergarten (a la Berenstain Bears) – but the long days drain you. At the end of the day, I ask you for “two goods and one bad.” Your “bad” is always the same: “I really missed you.”

I wish we could have put you in a program with more fun and less drilling, but this school is exceptional in the upper grades and the community is bar none. One day, soon, you’ll not dread those days quite so much. Hang in there, trooper. You are ready for take-off.

At dinnertime, you are a non-picky eater. You scoop up green chili enchiladas on to your plate by the heap. The only thing I can think of that you don’t favor is grilled cheese sandwiches. Even then, you can often be heard to say, “Thank you for this wonderful dinner.” Gratitude flows freely from your heart and lips.

For your birthday, you are getting a lab coat and “real” doctor’s kit because you have had an ambition to enter the medical field for as long as I can remember. If you go that route, I know you will be good at it because you are calm, clearheaded, decisive, and not at all bothered by a little blood.

You’d also REALLY like a dog, but I’m afraid that’s not happening…at least not yet.

More about you. You are – and have always been – a peacemaker. You rarely argue or quarrel, even with your sisters. You bring people together by quietly and brightly doing the right thing. As your teacher put it, “She always does the right thing, no matter who is watching.”

Another thing: You ask provocative and piercing questions. For example: “Why did God put us in this land instead of heaven?” I’d like to know the answer to that one too.

Final words – you are both an early-bird and a night owl. You’re pretty good at cartwheels, despite never being taught how to do them. You like playing card games, writing to pen pals, and sipping coffee. You wish you had a computer. You take awhile to warm up to new people (stranger danger!) and you tend to keep some of your brilliance tucked beneath your coat (which is fine by me). You often have bumps-and-bruises because of the rough-and-tumble, out-in-nature way that you play. You would rather be called “strong” and “fast” than “cute” – even though you are all three of those things.

I hope you can tell from this letter. I don’t just love you, A. I really, really like you too. You are a superlative  human being and I’m so glad that God chose me to be your mother.

Happy 6!

Dear O,

Sometimes I wonder what you will be doing in ten, fifteen, twenty years. Mostly because you are such a remarkable child.

Peculiar maybe too.

For example, you constructed a very impressive looking robot out of cardboard and tin foil. You’ve named him Anji and you have all sorts of grand plans for programming him.

You check out science books by the stack at the library and actually read them all. Same with magazine articles. When a recent edition of The Costco Connection arrived in our mailbox, you scooped it up and read the entire piece on Astronaut Scott Kelly.

Last I checked, you had 141% in Grammar & Composition. I’m not even sure how that grade is possible, but it made me smile because it is very fitting. We may need to create a budget just for notepads around here because you have one permanently adhered to your hand.

When we watch movies, you actually bring a notepad and pencil with you to take notes. And heaven help us when you return from Science Mondays – you have pages and pages of neatly scribbled notes. Also – diagrams! We mustn’t forget the diagrams! Flip through your pages and you’ll find sketches of atoms and molecules, planets, wildflowers, and rocks (categorized by type, of course).

Did I mention that you saw a picture of the Dumbbell Nebula (a planetary nebula in the constellation vulpecula) and recognized it from your own research? When we double-checked your observation with mouths wide open, you responded with a shrug, “It’s my favorite constellation.” I’m not sure how many 3rd graders have a favorite constellation, but you’re just that kind of girl. You even created your own space-themed song for being age 8, “Passing over the sun and passing over a rock, soaring through the sky, never wanting to stop, Apollo 8, bum-bum-bum, Apollo 8. A-POLLO 8.”

Over Christmas break, you copied down words from the dictionary. For fun.

Other strengths you have –

A. Public Speaking. Goodness, you can hold a crowd’s attention. You speak with such rapt expression and dramatic intonations. When you dress up in purple like Rapunzel and stand on a chair to sing “I’ve got a dream,” I watch you, mesmerized. You have a HUGE voice despite your miniature frame.

B. Art. You create sets of pieces in one category. For example, you recently created a fruit and vegetable series where you brought to life strawberries, bananas, and oranges. Each page had a different family group. You’ve done the same thing with princesses, careers, and the 4th of July.

C. Running. Speed and endurance – you’ve got both in the bag. Combined with genetics, I would say you’re well on your way to a track scholarship (if you want one). This year, you’re part of a Girls On The Run team and it suits you just fine.

Other things you like to do – read, collect and paint rocks, hike, and play make-believe with Audrey. You are very enthusiastic when we pull out a microscope or watch documentaries.

At night, you slip under your covers without complaint. I’m not sure if you’ve read about the merits of a good night’s sleep or it just comes naturally, but that’s a habit to keep for a lifetime.

For your birthday meal, you requested Carrot Soup (really – carrot soup). A non-exciting, but super healthful meal that we devised out of pure necessity last year after returning from a road trip and having almost no groceries in the house. Somehow it stuck as one of your most favorite meals so we’re running with it.

You also love fruit of all kinds (apples, peaches, plums, apricots, and melons). You actually told me you were “fruitsick” recently when we ran out of fruit. “You know, kind of like being homesick.”

Other food notes – you like vegetables (especially cucumbers) and almost all fruit (but NOT – cooked tomatoes). You don’t even like sauce on your pizza. You generally turn up your noise at processed foods and even many desserts, though you do so with the utmost of decorum. As one of our neighbors put it, “you’ll never meet a kid with better manners.” Strangely, though, you are a fan of In-N-Out.

When you grow up, you want to be a scientist, astronaut, writer, and mom. Possibly an inventor, horse trainer, or detective. You also want to build a time machine.

For your birthday, I should have bought you a lifetime supply of tape, tin foil, notepads, pencils, and science books. When asked, you said your preference for birthday gifts would be “a rocket and a horse.” Also: “I like shirts that have Saturn and other planets on them.”

Exodus 19:5 (KJV) says, “Now therefore, if ye will obey my voice indeed, and keep my covenant, then ye shall be a peculiar treasure unto me above all people.”

Do listen to God’s voice. He loves you and adores you. Also, know that that you are our peculiar treasure too. What would our lives be without you? We love you. To the moon and back (and so much more than that).

Dear K,

What you did on your birthday says something about you.

We hiked eight miles out-and-back to Seven Falls at Sabino Canyon. You and a friend chatted during the walk – about school, volleyball, and career aspirations. “Let’s both be doctors in the same field and work in the same office,” you said to each other.

You especially liked crossing streams – hopping rocks in your hiking boots, with your curls cascading out of the hole of your baseball cap.

The trail suited you more than the paved path. Adventure beats in your blood, pumps through your veins. You have always wanted to go places. You’ve never been one to turn down any trip – whether to the hardware store or halfway across the world. Sometimes, you wistfully ask if we can move out of the country.

After the hike, we ate at Zinburger and you polished off an entire (adult-size) cheeseburger with bacon and BBQ sauce. Plus, a mint milkshake. You say adults frequently underestimate your appetite – which they do.

In fact, I think people just plain old underestimate you sometimes. At age 11, you really seem more like 13 or 14. In the best possible way. Words that always come up when others talk about you: “mature,” “responsible,” and “hard-working.” You are temperate and self-motivated, discerning and diligent. You are also exceedingly grateful, with “thank you” often on your tongue.

5th grade is off to a really strong start for you. On the evenings before our homeschool days, you stay up late and check assignments off your list for the next day. Math and art are still the subjects that you love the most, but you are also a keen reader. Over the summer, you stayed up late with page-turners like The War That Saved My Life and Circus Mirandus and The Giver.

On the evening of your birthday, we did our family traditions – compliments around the dinner table and your pick for dinner (homemade pizza). We saved your birthday cheesecake for breakfast because that’s how we roll sometimes.

You also spent part of your birthday staging photos for my freelance and editorial work. It’s a job that you take seriously and that you do quite well. I give you a list of products/people/themes on a whiteboard and you create artistic scenes. It won’t be long before I’m sending you out on jobs of your own.

I told you that I got a little teary-eyed at your volleyball game last week. The waves of emotion caught me off-guard, but it was because I am so very, very proud of you. How can it be that I have such a kind, intelligent, and thoughtful daughter? I see glimpses all the time now of the woman you are becoming and, put simply, I am in awe. You are a strong and beautiful human being. God’s goodness is evident thru you and His light shines brightly in you.

Happy 11, K. May this year be your best yet.

Other things I want to remember:

• When it comes to clothing, you prefer athletic clothes and tennis shoes.
• You sometimes say, “My hair looks horrageous.” But you mostly like your blonde curls.
• You are a natural with babies and toddlers (including your baby brother).
• Foods you never turn down: ribs, twice baked potatoes, smoothies, coffee.
• Things you are good at: sketching, engineering, putting things together and taking things apart, organizing, designing.

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Dear H,

Things you have loved since birth: light, music, and nature.

When you were an itty bitty, you always turned your head toward the window, toward the sunlight that escaped from the skylight and the warm glow of the lamps in the library. You were and are drawn to the bright and the radiant.

Now that you are bigger, one of your favorite spots is by the window. You stand there and point enthusiastically at the roadrunners and lizards, bobcats and coyotes. You want to be carried outside where you can feel the wind in your hair. On most nights, I strap you into the red wagon and we walk in circles around the back porch. When the weather cools, I know we’ll be out on leisurely neighborhood walks and hikes in Sabino Canyon.

When you have to be inside, you push chairs around the house, grinning with pride & joy. You also like to put your fingers on the piano keys. When music plays, you bop up and down, dancing in the adorable way that toddlers do.

You like books – pulling them off of the bookshelf and having me read stacks of them. The “That’s Not My…(Puppy, Monkey, Lion, Monster)” series by Usborne are your favorite.

You are the picture of good health. In the past year, you were only sick once. You have cheeks and thighs that earn you dozens of compliments. Coupled with your sparkling blue eyes and your contagious smile, you are a wonder.

You have liked every food you’ve ever tried and that’s been quite a variety – mahi-mahi, broccoli, yogurt, salmon, peanuts, cheddar cheese, mangos, and blueberries. Of course, as baby #4, you fight for your spot at the dessert table too. You are quite a fan of ice cream.

Other important things – you adore your dad. As soon as Tim walks in the door, you start crying. Not because you are unhappy, but because you demand that he immediately pick you up. If I try to take you back, you bury your head in his shoulder with a chorus of “da-da-da’s.” I think you especially appreciate that he will walk you outside – showing you the bugs and the flowers. At bedtime, though, you come to me willingly, waving “night night” to all.

From the very beginning, you have been a happy baby. Sweet, charming, and winsome. People at parties coo over your friendliness and contentment. When I flew with you at 3 months, you were a model baby. Now that you are entering the danger age of bumps and bruises, you have some well-earned tears – but you are mostly very brave.

The past twelve months have zoomed by. I soaked them in and really savored your babyhood. My only regret is that I didn’t ask someone to take more photos – especially of the two of us. There are only one or two photos of us together, despite the fact that you were and are almost always in my arms.

What else can I say about your 1st year? Except this: I am profoundly grateful. You are the boy I never knew I wanted. When I first saw the sonogram, I was shocked, but also filled with a quiet kind of joy that slowly crept and filled the all of me. Your entrance into our family is, in the words of L.M. Montgomery, “positively providential.” The Sheaffer Six – it just seems right.

We call you “handsome, healthy, happy, humble, and heroic” – and you are indeed all of those things. And so much more. We love you, sweet boy.

At age 1 –

• You have six teeth (four on the top, two on the bottom).
• You crawl – fast.
• You walk alongside furniture and walls.
• You balance, standing without assistance.
• You say “da-da,” “ma-ma,” “night-night,” and “bye-bye.”
• You wave hello and goodbye.
• You clap your hands – ready to celebrate with those around you.
• You occasionally take two naps, but are moving into one nap territory.
• You sleep in your own bedroom – on a double mattress on the floor.
• Your favorite toys? Hmm. We don’t have very many toys and you mostly just like to be outside. If I had to choose, though, I’d say you are fond of books + balls.

Dear A,

If I had to choose a fruit of the spirit that describes you most accurately, it would be: goodness.

You practice goodness. You strive for goodness. You are a kind, gentle, and selfless soul.

Going along with that, you are a peacemaker – refusing to take sides during arguments, bringing people together. Both of your sisters would describe you that way, which is pretty remarkable.

I have always said that age four is one of my favorites and you proved this to be true again. Fantastic four. You were and are a delight.

To you, life is a musical. At various junctions in the day, you throw out your arms wide and sing songs of your own creation – typically in an operatic voice.

You remain exceptionally athletic. Whenever people come over, they comment on your speed as you ride your balance bike across our porch. We haven’t given you much time to practice, but you can totally ride a two-wheeler on your own now too.

Every afternoon, you ask, “What’s for dinner?” Regardless of the answer, you usually follow it up with “Yum!” and “Thanks!” I REALLY appreciate your non-pickiness (and your gratitude) when it comes to mealtime. The only thing I can think of that you’re not much of a fan of is – grilled cheese sandwiches. Strange, but true.

Your top hobbies are cooking, dressing up with O, holding your baby brother, watching movies, playing games (alphabet match and UNO), and reading. You leave books like “Anne of Green Gables” and “The Little House on the Prairie” around the house with bookmarks in them – and become distressed if we “lose your spot.” You will sit in your bed for long stints, with picture-less books open on your lap.

Lest we remember the truth incorrectly, I should point out that you are not actually reading. In fact, you don’t even know all of the alphabet – though that’s no fault of your own. You are bright, articulate, and eager to learn. We just haven’t spent that much time going over the three R’s just yet. Academics will come soon enough.

At Halloween, you dressed up in pink scrubs and declared yourself, “Dr. A. Sheaffer” – with zero prompting from us. You wore your surgical mask and stethoscope like a boss.

We went to Disneyland TWICE when you were age 4 and you didn’t even want to ride Winnie-The-Pooh. Oh no! You proudly rode Tower of Terror BLACK-OUT and declared it your favorite ride. Other favorites: Splash Mountain, Space Mountain, and Big Thunder Mountain. You cried when you found out you were too short for Grizzly River Run….which brings me to my next point.

You very rarely cry.  You’ll take a huge crash on your bike, tumble over while hiking, or head into a scary swim lesson – and hold your head up high. Tough as they come.

Speaking of swim, you took a “Swim to Survive” two-week class last summer at barely age 4. By the end, you were swimming solo and diving for rings at the bottom of the pool. Your bravery inspired me.

Tim & I are also impressed by your decision-making skills. You are highly decisive – able to make up your mind regardless of what others are doing. If we say, “Blue or green?” or “Burritos or Chili?”…you can answer quickly and without looking around the room to see what everyone else will choose. I hope you keep this trait forever.

You have wild + angelic curly hair, pensive eyes, and a (toothless) smile that you don’t give out to just anybody. You lost both of your two front teeth prematurely – one from falling off the playhouse in the backyard, the other when you face-planted in the living room a week later (A WEEK LATER). When you received a dollar under your pillow from the tooth fairy, you cheerfully announced, “Now I can get A DOG!”

Recently, we went around and played the question game at the dinner table. One of the questions was: “Who is your hero?” You piped up lickety-split, “God!” You love Him. You love our family. You are just plain good at loving.

Thank you for being exactly who you. We adore you, AJ.