Mars. Venus. Siblings.

Hey y'all - 

At least once a day, I am taken aback by how different you are. 

It's pretty hard to upset Hagen; according to him, nothing is worth getting worked up about. His soundtrack would be that Bob Marley song that tells us "Every little thing's gonna be all right." Here's something no one is ever going to need to say to Hagen: "Just be cool, man!" Trust me - he's already there. And great news for us: he's perfectly happy doing whatever his sister wants to do. 

We've been working on potty training.  I told Hagen he could have a Fudgesicle if he'd go in the potty. He didn't care. Fudgesicle, no Fudgesicle, whatever. Then, I got smart, and told Laney that SHE could have a Fudgesicle if Hagen went in the potty. So she's got him on some kind of training regimen that I don't really understand - I honestly don't know if she's in there giving him pep talks or threatening him with minor violence if he doesn't go. I just know we're going through Fudgesicles like crazy. Yay, outsourcing!

Yesterday, I was upstairs at my desk when I heard you two in the kitchen getting apples out of the fruit bowl. And then I overheard this conversation, which I swear to all that is good and right in the world I am not making up:

Laney: Hagen! Why don't we make up stories about where our apples came from? I'll go first! "It was a dark and stormy night..." (After that ridiculous intro, there was a five-minute monologue about the provenance of her apple. I do not remember all of the details, but there was a dragon. At one point, her apple had been trapped underground, and she tried to free it with a drill, but that didn't work, even when she "used extra screws." Blah blah blah...) ...and that's how I got my apple! Okay, your turn Hagen, to make up a story!

Hagen: (chewing) Jus' wanna eat dis apple. De end.

Brevity is the soul of snack time. 

Love,

Mom