I don’t write much about Lilah, not because I have nothing to say but because what I would write would get awfully boring in no time at all and might make you hate me. Writing about Zachary’s high sensitivity and social anxiety is interesting. Benjamin’s rapacity and princess shoes are amusing. And their attempts at mutual destruction make good copy. A baby who cries only when tired, eats the food offered, plays by herself for long stretches, and prefers to spend her time beaming at anyone who will acknowledge her? Who the fuck wants to read about that crap?
It’s OK if you’re envious. I would have been, too. The boys were wonderful babies in their own ways, but no one ever accused them of being easy. Zachary’s need for perfect order was exhausting, and Benjamin was so loud he would wake up the baby next door. And they have remain supremely complicated and overwhelming, in large part because they are polar opposites who have been forced by the vagaries of fortune to share not only the same house but the same set of bunk beds. Even as I sit here, I hear Zach yelling at Benjamin, “Get back in bed!”
Sister, I have earned this baby.