Age eight. Not your mother’s eight – which probably included climbing on trees and riding bikes around the neighborhood streets with no adult supervision. Nope.

Not your eight. Not the “we-forgot-to-put-sunblock-on,” free-roaming, ’90s version of eight. 

I’m talking Alpha Generation’s Eight – the sassy talking, internet-savvy, press-on nails eight. It’s eight going on 13. Now, close your eyes for a moment and imagine that version of eight, times two. Two second-grade-literate girls that could go on an endless inquiry of whys. That’s my house.

As a parent of twins, the term “double trouble” was really prevalent during the toddler years, but now, at eight, it resonates at a whole new level. We negotiate homework hours, we earn points for chores, we play Disney’s Descendants music loudly in our room during playtime. My husband and I, over a glass or two of wine, sometimes wonder why the term “because I said so” is no longer relevant to this generation. Or, at least, we’ve failed at it in our household. 

So, with all this in mind, I’m going to tell you a little story about this generation’s eight. 

I walked into their room one day, a few weeks ago, and saw my daughter, Arianna, making bracelets. She’s gotten good, I think. Anticipating what could potentially be a sassy comment, I indulge her in a conversation that she initiates. We start talking about Heart Month, and how Laureate Park Elementary has already started prompting kids to complete Finn’s mission and donate to the American Heart Association. She talked about how in first grade, at seven, she didn’t understand what this meant or how donating could help other kids. But now she does.

Albeit, she’s got a deeper perspective on heart heroes because she is one. 

At birth, twin B (Arianna) was taken to the NICU for low birth weight. What we thought would be a few days turned out to be three excruciating weeks filled with uncertainty and anguish. During that time, I was discharged with Mila, her sister, and had to leave Arianna at the hospital. During her 21-day hospital stay, my child was poked and prodded, fed through a feeding tube, and put in a warm glass box. Arianna never looked sick; she was an active, always-hungry, happy-go-lucky preemie who hated the feeding tube (and the box) from day one. We thought it was an overabundance of caution, but looking back, I am grateful to the doctors for being so meticulous about her health. 

One of the tests by the pediatric specialists found a result that has changed our lives forever. We were told she was born with a congenital heart defect that would need close monitoring for the rest of her life. It was called Bicuspid Aortic Valve, and it meant being born with flawed leaflets in the aortic valve, which cause regurgitation to the heart. Most importantly, in the vast majority of cases, this condition would require open heart surgery. We didn’t know when. It could be as a child, as a teen, or as an adult. But it would almost certainly be a reality. It was a rough reality to swallow. 

When we moved down to Florida, we chose Lake Nona for a wide variety of reasons, including its proximity to Nemours Children’s. There, we’ve met some of the most caring specialists one could ever hope for, in particular, Dr. Gul Dadlani, head of Pediatric Cardiology. That man has seen more tears from me than anyone would ever be comfortable with, has declined to object to the many hugs I’ve given him without permission, and has answered wild scenario questions from a mom who just wants a crystal ball. When we got here, with uncertainty and distrust and tons of questions about processes in past facilities, he said to me, with a caring, careful voice, “Don’t worry. We will take care of your daughter.” And that is what EVERY parent needs to hear from their child’s doctor.

By the way, he meant it. During our appointments, we chat about what would happen in her teen years (we’re aiming to make it to 18 without surgery), and he includes himself in the conversation as a provider who will accompany us through this process for decades to come. 

So, back to my children’s bedroom, and the conversation, with both of them by my side, I heard Arianna talking about how important it is to help others like her and how she wanted to sell her bracelets to raise money for the American Heart Association. Oh, I said. This sassy-talking, fun-loving, charismatic wild child, previously impervious to the suffering of strangers (at least to my apparent self), said one of the most selfless things I’ve ever heard her say. We talked about Finn, how he’s had over 18 procedures in his short life, and how she’s lucky to have had zero so far. That was so hard to say as a mother because, on the surface, it invalidates your own suffering, but really, when you get into the deeper meaning of it, it brings gratitude back into the layered compartment of feelings.

If you’re serious about it, let’s get started, I said. We originally thought this would be Arianna’s mission, but there’s always a way to bring your bud, your sister, your twin, into the mix. After all, they’ve been doing everything together from the very beginning.

They quickly established roles and responsibilities: Arianna would make the bracelets, cut the string, weave the beads, and tie the knots. Mila would design the bracelets. They got to work on what I thought would be a weekend project, but to my surprise, it has become a calling, a passion. Arianna spends her weekends filling backorders and making more stock for her impromptu sales. Mila, using more paper than I feel comfortable with, has expanded her array of designs, which include detailed information about what colors, palettes and patterns to use and which inspiring words to include. 

These savvy eight-year-olds have more uplifting words in their vocabulary than I ever had at that age. From “dream big,” “explore,” “be brave,” “gem” and “love,” these kids know how to use language to inspire. We made a plan to ride bikes to different playgrounds (Zip Line being our favorite) and display the bracelets on our picnic blanket. Arianna is quick to approach other kids to offer them a bracelet and explain their cause. Are you interested in buying a bracelet? We’re going to help other heart heroes, she says. 

At first, we thought they would sell one or two of the 12 bracelets they had made on their first day. In a matter of hours, they sold all of them. 

So far, they’ve sold around 35 and counting. By the time this article is published, hopefully it’s over 50. My hope for these kids is that they continue to find ways to use their talents for good. In a ruthless world that can be mean, and cruel, there is so much good to highlight. 

As I watch them continue to strive to grow their project, which they’ve aptly named “Make it Happen Art”, I think to myself … have all the whys I was coerced to answer – after long work days on topics ranging from “Why do I have to know how to spell mistletoe?” to “Why are there wars in the world?” – actually made a tiny impact in their maturing, malleable souls? Maybe so. Maybe so. Follow Mila and Arianna on Instagram at @MakeItHappen.Art, or message us to donate at makeithappenart@gmail.com. 50% of Mila and Arianna’s proceeds will be donated to the American Heart Association.