In the Miller household, Saturdays always smelled like cinnamon and sounded like chaotic, high-pitched laughter. On the living room couch, Leo, Mia, and Chloe sat shoulder-to-shoulder, standard positioning for their weekend morning cartoon marathon.
To the rest of the world, the triplets were a unique puzzle. Chloe and Leo were typical, energetic toddlers who viewed the world as a giant playground. Mia, sitting snugly in the middle, had Down syndrome.
People in public often looked at them with a mix of curiosity and hesitation. They noticed the slight differences in Mia’s features before they noticed her laugh. But if you asked Leo and Chloe, they didn’t see “different.” They just saw Mia—the master of hide-and-seek, the keeper of the best snacks, and the anchor of their trio.
A Lesson from Mom
Just that morning, Leo had asked a question while staring at a picture book. “Mom, why does Mia talk slower than us? Is she broken?”
