Growing up as the second oldest in a tribe of 7, our childhood was nothing short of epic adventures and misadventures. We went from competing in the front yard, to being each others biggest support on any athletic field. We went from chasing each other down in pastures, to running our brothers down when they made it back home safe from war. From our "Take it outside" wrestling matches tossing each other down the hill, to drop kicking each other post-snowman demolition. From the impromptu dodgeball matches with chunks of asphalt (yes, you read that right) after heated basketball losses on the gravel drive, I’ll stop the stories there. Our bodies may carry the scars of our childhood antics, proof of the wild stories we have to tell. Yet, beneath the skin, we each also carry the deeper, invisible marks of the emotional rollercoasters that came with growing up in such a bustling household. But time works its magic, and it's been an incredible journey watching my siblings evolve into fathers, mothers, uncles, and aunts. The Reed legacy continues as we venture into the joys and challenges of raising another generation of Reed kids.