Shockingly, he stayed still as I opened the gate, and the other two boys went through. The rest of my pretty family followed into the space between the kitchen and living room.
The girls were in the same style dresses, adorned with flowers in the yellow and blue color palette the rest of us wore. Their sandals matched too. Fisher and Hunter wore the same outfits all the way down to their new runners.
I recognized the inequity for the girls. Each one had developed their own sense of style as well, but they were adorable when dressed alike. And today, how they appeared mattered more than their feelings on the matter. Yes, I was certain therapy was in their future.
“You look pretty,” I said to Ava.
“Daddy, I look like a clown,” she said, passing me.
“You can do this for me and Paw. It’s for an hour tops. We’ll take pictures first. You’ll then talk to the reporters and say only nice things about our lives. After that, Gigi’s waiting for you because I don’t trust any of you not to be heathens.” The children gravitated into a single file-line. “You look very nice,” I said to Livie.
“You do too, Daddy,” she said. I beamed at the compliment made from manners we instilled in them, not from any inspection she gave me. “I like the sandals because the flowers match the dress. I like when things match.”
All three girls had skipped first grade, going straight into second grade, but Livie’s intelligence was off the charts. She was so smart that it was becoming apparent that she was far more advanced than the courses she was being taught.
“Beautiful as ever, Mia.”
“I’m meh about it.” Mia passed, hopping off the last step then twirling her dress in a circle. “I like how flowy it is though.”
Then, my guy brought up the rear. “Meh?” he teased Mia.
I swear time froze for me. He captured my attention and held it until he broke the spell, moving past me. “The color suits you.”
I knew suits made him uncomfortable, so I opted for a snug, high-end athletic-style shirt and a pair of starched new blue jeans. Wranglers really highlighted both the front and the back of his body. New runners, the same style as the boys, brought the look together.
“Fisher, stay on the kitchen side of the house. Hunter, you stay on this end.” Beau had hold of Hunter’s shoulder and placed his back against the wall. “Troops, line up for inspection.” Beau began to walk the line of our children, using a playful military tone. At the same moment, the doorbell rang. I left him to tuck in shirts and straighten pleats and bows. He also gave each one of them small words of encouragement.
As I went to the foyer, I heard Beau say, “Best behavior. Everyone helps Fisher be good without fightin’ him.”
“Why does Abuela not have to participate?” Ava murmured. “She handles Fisher the best.”
“Because she’s the matriarch of our family which means she does what she wants. She’s the boss,” Beau answered. I couldn’t argue with the logic.
I opened the door and swung my hand out in invitation for our guests to enter. The subsequent greetings were efficient, if not louder than necessary on my end. My crew needed to be aware of the reporter was in the house. Her camera guy flanked nearby. Best behaviors began now.
“Come meet my family.” As I rounded into the open-floor concept of the downstairs, pride swelled in my chest.
All the children circled Beau with Fisher on the outer edge, snapping his fingers together. His entire body wiggled while he mimicked me speaking. Our little guy was the fun cherry on top that made the scene perfect.
“Girls and boys, this is Ms. Pebbly, she’s the reporter withHuffington Post, and this is Mr. Smith, the cameraman. They’re here to talk to us about our lives for a segment for Pride month.”
“Pride month’s a time to celebrate our fathers’ accomplishments, and the family they created,” Livie explained to her brothers and sisters, giving a nod after her explanation.
“That’s correct,” Ms. Pebbly said. Livie beamed.
I began introductions from the top down and put on my best Vanna White display. “Let’s start with Beau, my husband.”
Ms. Pebbly shook Beau’s hand, grasping him so tightly I wasn’t sure she planned to let go.
“I’m Zoe. Thank you for allowing us inside your home.”
“This is West,” Beau continued for me. “Our triplets Liv, Mia, and Ava. Hunter’s our youngest. Then Fisher, our middle son. He enjoys movement.”
“Pleasure to meet you all.”
“Nice to meet you too.” They all chirped in unison. A practiced response we worked on over the years.
“Six children in seven years. That’s ambitious,” she said, pulling a portfolio from the bag hanging on her shoulder. People made those kinds of remarks as if we’d planned it that way, and I guess we had, but I never considered it a challenge to have back-to-back kids. Not that we’d had to carry them ourselves, but we’d been involved every step of the way. I’d have many more if I could get Beau to agree.
