They want candy.

Tolliver shopped for his Army Ranger costume with Aunt Kate more than a month ago.  He's worn it approximately ninety five times before today.
Hank loves to hop and to say ribbit, but refused to put on his frog hat for even one photo this evening.
And Tucker drafted several designs for an oversized, working fidget spinner - folks couldn't keep their hands off it.

chapter one

Hank continues to reverse into an empty lap the way all of our children have done, bottom first and book in hand.
There are six of us here who can read with him, and he knows that any of us will stop what we're doing to engage his request.

He is very happy on his own too, imitating a pretentious stage reader. He comes upon books left on the floor and settles down cross legged to examine them, from Greek mythology to Good Night Moon. He grabs the edges of pages and flips at random for several seconds, never looking up, all the while running a loud low-pitched tone, like an aged generator.

Sometimes if we're feeling really ragged, which let's face it, is lots of the time, I default to books. I pull Hank close to me and we read, like I did when his siblings were overstimulated toddlers and exhausted preschoolers, like I’ve been doing their whole lives.
Sometimes I imagine the boys grown up and employed, calling me from work, overwhelmed and aggravated, and I wonder if I'll remember to pull out something like Little Blue Truck or Harry Potter and begin reading.

nailed it

Like someone handed him a script with the definition of cool.

Hankgry

Just like the rest of us, he gets a little angry when he's hungry.
Nothing a few animals crackers can't usually fix.

October might be when the weather in Ohio feels its most Ohio-ish.

We took the boys to Hocking Hills and spent a couple days being completely, gloriously, proudly unproductive. Unless catching salamanders is productive?
Their happy outdoor faces collided with the color crescendo of changing leaves and everything felt pretty perfect.

looking for a second wind

Some days I feel like I spend most of my energy trying to wrangle a tornado.  Or three.
I haven't chased many storms, but just like the boys, they are awesome and powerful and there is usually a rainbow at the end, right?

trying words

I wish I were better able to catch Hank's language on camera. These video snippets are from over the course of about a month, but they don't capture everything.
Not recorded are things like the way he talks about vitamins every morning, and pumpkins all day long, the way he calls everyone in the house by name, all six of us, and says some cousin names even better than his brothers'.  The way he says please now, as he signs, and talks about giraffes and zebras and dogs and babies and bacon. And most recently, the way he tells us to sit and shhh.
He is trying words and cobbling together phrases, something different every day, naming a world that looks just as new to me as it must to him.

Translation:
mine
popsicle
mama
down
lollipop
bye bye
backpack
pepper
pear
pop (toaster)
dada
thank you
watermelon
knock knock
e-i-e-i-o
moo
nine
up
down
watch
bye