I swear this wasn't my idea.
Lucy decided on her own that laying on the ground with a plate of brisket on her back would make a good photo. She tried several brisket poses, but decided this one was best. She also decided it should be shared with all of you on the blog and also that I should tweet it.
Last week, David pointed out that nearly every picture on the blog recently had been of Lucy. He also pointed out that someday the children would scroll through this little blog as adults and Edie would see she was featured less and maybe she'd think we loved her less. And maybe she'd start doing coke and having sex with the New York Knicks just to get us back.
So I'm now going to speak to my daughter, grown-up Edie, who might be wondering if I didn't love her or think she was adorable enough to make the blog. Here goes:
Your sister is a ham bone. If someone raises a camera within a radius of 200 yards, Lucy drops into her ethereal, angelic, contemplative face and gently, softly picks at the petals of a flower, as if she were a fair maiden lost in the woods, dazed among the daisies. You, on the other hand, put your hands over your face, make scrinchy troll faces and throw things at the camera. I know this is a phase, but the only pictures I get of you lately are the ones I sneak. And even then, you say "Don't tweet that, Mommy!" as if I were going to tell everyone you got your period or something.
Also, you don't want me to talk much about Boily, Shapian and Sarah, your imaginary friends, who I'm afraid we will lose someday soon and they will go unrecorded and undocumented and eventually we will all forget they even existed. And that would be a shame because last week, Boily, Shapian and Sarah ate a human in my living room and sucked the blood out of it. Or at least that's what you told me. I feel like they should be writing their own blog.
Mostly, Edie, I want you to know that whether your picture is posted here these days as much as your ham bone sister is of no matter. These things ebb and flow. And anyway, girl, you shine without trying. You've never needed to jump in front of the camera or push someone else aside so you can be seen. You have quiet strength. You are sure of who you are, like no one else I know. You are a wild goat on a near-vertical rocky cliff. Sure-footed. Hoof over hoof on crags. Hoof over hoof across ravines. Dangling off the rocky edges. Skipping up the side of mountains. Without fear. Without faltering.
If you are wondering where you got that, well, that's all your daddy. You might have my eyes, but you have his core. That will get you places.
So, grown-up Edie, even if you don't see your photos here as much these days, know that I see you. Really see you. Every day...Even if you won't pose with a brisket on your back and let me write about it.