A few months ago, the whole family was in the car and Lucy mentioned how much she liked to write stories.

“You can write them,” Alice said, leaning back in her booster seat. “I want to sell them.” 

That sums up one of the many differences between them. 

Lucy is insanely creative. If you leave her alone with Scotch tape, paper, and any sort of writing implement, she will invent something mysterious and messy and hang it from the wall, ceiling, or both.

She dreams of being an actress and regularly practices fake crying so that she’s ready for her Oscar moment. Last week was big: She made real tears fall onto her cheeks. “Look, Mom! REAL FAKE TEARS!” For once, I didn’t mind that she was crying.

Alice, on the other hand, is ruthlessly practical. She prefers non-fiction to fiction, and is constantly seeking proof of the existence of supernatural beings so that she can keep enjoying her fairy encyclopedia. (Otherwise, she’s donating it to the library.)

She has also announced her intention of becoming a children’s video game developer, and every time I suggest that she’s perhaps spent enough time on the computer, she reminds me that she’s working. At her job.

A friend with four kids told me that you always think your kids are polar opposites, until you have more than two. 

Then each of them feels as different as they can be. This is no doubt true. You look so closely at each of your kids—it’s like studying a mountain with a microscope, and every little difference feels like its own splendid valley. Maybe to other people our kids look similar, but to us, they’re their own universes.

Given how different they are, I always feel lucky that they get along as well as they do. I give a lot of the credit to Lucy, who started asking for a baby sister when she was 18 months old. 

It was a little freaky, actually. She had a plastic horse and every time she saw it, she’d say, “Want a baby sister.” Wondering about the connection between the horse and a sister, we asked her where she thought babies came from.

“The science center,” she replied—more or less correctly. We still have no idea about the horse. I did donate it to the Goodwill before she asked for any more siblings. I know my limits.

Anyway, Lucy got her baby sister and ever since, has been entertaining Alice in all sorts of ways. Yesterday, she pretended to be a TV, and Alice got to change channels all she wanted with her invisible remote control. My favorite was Lucy’s “Spanish language version of Barney.” Alice nearly fell off her chair laughing.

Meanwhile, Alice defends Lucy when she gets in trouble for things she does with Scotch tape, which is the least you can do for the sister who does Spanish Barney.

Earlier this week, though, their two skill sets came together in a surprising way. Adam and I each received hand-written invitations that read: 

YOU ARE INVITED TO THE BEDTIME DANCE PARTY AT BEDTIME.

The invitations were illustrated with a twinkling disco ball.

Adam and I cleared our social calendars so that we could attend. Sadly, this took no time. 

When bedtime came, we linked arms and went to the girls’ room. Outside the door, Lucy had placed the small area rug from their room. It stretched before us like a Hollywood red carpet, except for the fact that it is pink-and-green plaid (from Sears).

At the end of the carpet stood Alice, looking like the world’s smallest bouncer. Her arms were crossed over her chest, and she said, “Tickets please. You can’t get in without a ticket.”;

We produced our invitations. “Will these do?”&

She inspected them for a tense moment and announced, “You may come in.”

Then she stepped aside, satisfied we’d followed the rules of the dance party.

Inside their room, a riot of pink streamers from some long-ago birthday party hung from the ceiling looking like either spaghetti or the intestines of a huge, unfortunate animal. Their lamp had been turned sideways and stripped of its shade, so it functioned as a crude spotlight.

Lucy had outdone herself with the decorating, and I was going to need to buy some new Scotch tape. Also? I would need a better hiding place for the rest of the streamers.

They punched up the night’s selection: “Love Shack” by the B-52s.