Melody’s Chapter 5

Saturday mornings are loud and messy, and Sydney loves every second of it. The toddlers are eating and learning and playing, the children are telling stories and jokes, and the whole house hums with that warm, lived‑in noise that makes her feel grounded. She lets me handle the cooking these days — probably because she’s still a little traumatized by the fire — and honestly, I don’t mind. Feeding this family feels like feeding a dream we built together.

Saffron reached Happy Toddler and immediately took her angry attitude straight to bed. She was exhausted, over this whole “learning” thing, and very clear about her priorities: sleep, play, eat, repeat. Honestly, relatable.

We’re slowly building our savings so I can finally buy my restaurant. Maybe by the time Berry becomes a child, it’ll happen. That would be perfect timing — fewer toddlers means Sydney won’t be stretched so thin, and I’ll be able to step into my dream without feeling like I’m abandoning her to the chaos.

Colby was the next to leave the toddler room and move into the bunk room with Basil and Ginger. He rolled self‑assured and Happy Toddler, strutting into childhood like he’d been waiting for this moment his whole life. Another little person finding their footing.

Everyone is shifting into a more self‑sufficient stage. The children finish their homework without being asked, then scatter — some to play, some to watch TV, some to argue about whose turn it is on the computer.

Berry, meanwhile, follows everyone around like a tiny shadow. Privacy is a myth — she even watched Ginger take a bath, wide‑eyed and fascinated. She roughhoused with Sydney until Sydney’s back started to hurt, then switched to dolls, determined to get her skills to level 3. And she did. Every single toddler in this house has now achieved Happy Toddler. Somehow, against all odds, it looks like we’re going to survive this full house.

Sydney gathered everyone for a story, and miraculously, all six kids — toddlers and children alike — came running. It was one of those rare, golden moments where the whole family fit into a single frame.

And then I came home from work, and Sydney’s face lit up. We’re almost there — almost enough saved to buy the restaurant. But I’m waiting until Berry has her birthday. I want to start this next chapter when the house is just a little steadier.

As the children equal and then outnumber the toddlers, the house gets calmer but not quieter. I make breakfast in the mornings, and they all come running. Then the children head to school, and the toddlers get the morning with me and the afternoon with Sydney.

Things have settled so much that Sydney has started going out daily to gather. She wants to help contribute to the restaurant fund. She wants this dream for me as much as I do.

It was time for Reuben’s birthday, and he was practically vibrating with excitement. I helped him blow out his candles — his little cheeks puffed out, eyes squeezed shut, making the most serious wish a toddler has ever wished. When the sparkles cleared, he stood there blinking up at me, suddenly taller, suddenly older, suddenly himself in a new way. And then the trait hit: genius. Of course he was. The kid has been analyzing the dollhouse like it’s a structural engineering project since he could crawl. I hugged him tight, proud and a little overwhelmed at how fast they all grow.

Berry, meanwhile, has entered her storytelling era. She’ll tell a story to anyone who will listen — siblings, stuffed animals, the wall — and I love every single one. She talks with her whole body, hands waving, eyes wide, voice rising and falling like she’s narrating an epic saga. I could listen to her for hours.

The house has shifted again, this time from the smell of dirty diapers to the sound of pencils scratching across homework pages. Every afternoon, the children pile around the table and get straight to work. It’s loud, it’s messy, and it’s a thousand times better than the diaper stage.

The aliens are still around, though. This time they took me. One minute I was cleaning up after dinner, the next I was weightless, floating in that strange blue light. It’s unsettling every time, even when you know it’s coming. Sydney pretends she’s used to it, but I see the way she watches the sky afterward, like she’s daring it to try again.

Saffron had her birthday next, spinning into childhood with a burst of sparkles and a triumphant little stomp. She rolled Loves Outdoors, which fits her perfectly — she’s always been the first one to toddle toward the yard, the sun, the wind, anything that isn’t a wall. She ran outside immediately after aging up, like the trait activated a homing beacon.

Christina dropped by later, and the first one to greet her was Berry, of course. The moment Sydney realized Berry had wandered outside alone, she hurried out to join them. The three of them sat on the porch for a while, chatting in the warm afternoon light. Berry talked the most — naturally — and Christina listened like she was hearing the greatest story ever told.

Tomorrow is Berry’s birthday, and we finally have the savings ready to buy the restaurant. I can barely think about anything else. The dream I’ve been carrying since the beginning is right there, close enough to touch.

Harmony dropped by too, glowing with excitement. She pulled me aside to share her news — she’s having triplet girls. Triplets. Girls. I hugged her so tight she squeaked. Our family tree is about to explode in the best way.

And then, just like that, the last toddler became a child. The journey we started when we brought home our first baby — the sleepless nights, the diapers, the chaos, the noise — all of it led to this moment. The house feels different now. Older. Calmer. A little more grown.

Berry rolled Active, which makes perfect sense. She hasn’t stopped moving since the day she learned how to crawl. Even now, as a freshly sparkled‑up child, she’s practically vibrating with energy — bouncing on her toes, darting from room to room, talking a mile a minute like her thoughts can’t keep up with her feet. She’s the kind of kid who treats every hallway like a racetrack and every piece of furniture like an obstacle course.

And now… now I’m ready. Ready to buy my restaurant.

I finally did it. I bought Hogan’s Burger Bar — that little building I’ve been staring at since the day I moved into Newcrest — and the second the deed was mine, I renamed it Melody’s Table. Seeing my name on the sign didn’t feel real at first. It was like this dream I’d been carrying around in my apron pocket finally stepped out into the sunlight. The place still smells a little like old fryer oil and memories, but now it’s mine.

Hiring my first team felt a lot like seasoning a dish — careful, intentional, trusting my instincts. Marilyn Pancakes came on as my chef, steady and calm in a way that settles the whole kitchen. Felicia Danielson, Trace’s daughter, took the host stand with that bright smile that makes people feel like they’ve already been here before. And Elsa Bjergsen joined as my waiter, quick on her feet and eager to help build something new.

Standing in the empty dining room with Sydney beside me and my new team waiting for direction, I felt the moment settle over me — warm, not heavy. This isn’t just a restaurant. It’s the next chapter of our life. A place shaped by long nights, early mornings, and the beautiful chaos of raising six kids.

The family tree shifted again, the way it always does — quietly, inevitably, like seasons turning. Another sibling appeared for me: Lia Forte. I haven’t met her yet, but knowing she’s out there adds another branch to a tree that’s already sprawling across Newcrest and beyond. Our family grows in every direction.

And then came the bigger change. All of Generation 4 is gone now. Which means Generation 5 is now the oldest generation alive. Charlotte, Caroline, Christina, and Judd. They’re the ones holding the line now, the roots of the living family. It feels strange, knowing the torch has passed without anyone handing it over.

Generation 6 — my generation — is me, Harmony, Keaton, and Lia. We’re the middle now. The bridge. The ones raising the next wave.

And Generation 7… well, that’s the loudest, brightest, most chaotic branch of all. All my kids, filling the house with noise and homework and endless stories. And soon Harmony’s triplet girls will join them, three more little sparks ready to light up the family tree.

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