Excerpt
From
I Sleep at Red Lights:
It is past 10 p.m. now and they show no sign of exhaustion, maniacally trampolining from bed to floor to furniture. I took chemistry in high school and cannot comprehend how their intake of calories supports 12 straight hours of mayhem. Is anyone at the oil companies studying children? The acrobatics are interrupted when Jared notices Hannah using one of his blankets as a parachute. A nasty, screaming, scratching fight breaks out. Each bed has a unique combination of linens. If any blanket or sheet or pillow is mixed up, bedlam ensues. The First Rule of Triplets: Everything must be different. While invisible to the casual observer, to three competitive toddlers such minute differences are crucial.
I calm them all down and Barak begs for water. More screaming and wailing erupt as Hannah demands her share. "It's just water!" I say. "Don't fight over water!"
Of course they fight over water. They are 3-1/2 years old. They fight over Styrofoam packing peanuts. Jared asks for seltzer, which sets off another series of frantic negotiations. Volumes of water and seltzer must be analyzed and adjusted. They attack my competence to perform measurements and criticize my methodologies. The Second Rule of Triplets: Everything must be equal. These two directives must balance seamlessly, without canceling one another out.
Copyright 2003 by Bruce Stockler