Their humor is sick and twisted. They make me laugh.
Same nature, same nurture, completely different kids. It's a crap shoot, people.
They speak fluent Hungarian because we lived there. Also various levels of German, Spanish and Arabic.
They can be complete pains in the ass. They're teenagers.
Conversely, they often completely disprove the stereotypes about teenagers.
I learn from them. Especially when they call me on my crap.
The Eldest Daughter
Is on full academic scholarship to Howard University.
(Hell, yeah, I'm bragging about that shit.)
Spits when passing the White House.
Is a classical pianist with a minor in Sociology.
Is also a singer. She loves Early Music.
Is getting her protest on, as any self-respecting college student in DC does.
Hates TV.
Is an active anti-racist and feminist who also works against heterosexism, colorism, and any other -isms she runs across.
Is an artist with a funky style. Is a writer. She does these things for herself.
Is left-handed.
Is unnaturally wise.
The Second-born Daughter (who is a functioning first-born)
Is a brainiac-athlete-pastry-chef-multi-tasker who works, runs track, does high jump, debate and multi-cultural club, and kicks ass in her classes.
Was the first girl football player on her school's team when we came back to the states. (yes, on the line.)
Rode horses in Hungary, loved to jump.
Is a Yell Leader. This is a cheerleader who cheers for wrestling, not football, because the football cheerleaders at her school are "Snotty-assed Barbie-girls".
Creates unique and twisted bakery items.
Is organized everywhere except the hell called her Room.
Fits her boyfriend into her life, not the other way around.
Plays her emotions close to the vest, but has a huge heart.
Is loyal and generous.
I don't know when the girl sleeps.
The Youngest, Our Resident Man-Child
Is a math whiz, a young gentleman, a computer whiz.
Is an athlete who wrestles, plays football, and runs track.
Is navigating his way through the hell called middle school as a young man of color in whitified suburbia.
A growth spurt turned him into a man-boy hybrid with a six-pack he has no business having, and who sounds like James Earl Jones.
Is learning that --OhNo!-- report cards do not automatically reflect amazing brain power without some effort.
Is coming into his own. He will be an amazing man.
I fled Seattle in 2011, landed in Costa Rica with nine suitcases and a dog, married a tico, took off my rose-colored glasses, and settled in for the ride.
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