No twins. Just two 11-year-olds. Yup, it gets confusing.

 

We get asked all the time:

"How old are your kids?"

"Eleven, eleven and thirteen."

A pause.

"Twins?"

"Nope."

We laugh. It’s funny. Two girls, both eleven. But no, they're not twins. Not even close. Lana is our youngest by birth. Just a few months older is Ella, our adopted daughter.

We moved to Belize without children. Work and travel were our priorities for a long time. Shaped by years of exploring places most people don’t go — Cambodia, Malawi, Ecuador — we’d seen poverty up close. Visited orphanages and schools. Witnessed the heartbreaking cracks in systems, the struggles communities face when living in slums and poverty. And hunger. The plight of undernourished children hits you in the gut.

Along the way, we met people doing serious work. Education programs in Ecuador. Healthcare projects in remote villages. Orphanage support in Cambodia and Malawi. We’d listen, learn and when possible, help. Every trip added another layer. While changing the world isn’t possible, we can do our part.

One thought kept coming back: if we had children, at least one should get the chance to live a different story.

Becoming parents was a conscious choice. And for my wife, it was important to experience pregnancy once. Consequently, our son Simon was born. But instead of trying for a second biological child, we turned our focus to adoption.

It began with fostering. We reached out to the Department of Human Services here in Belize, registered our interest, and started the paperwork. The goal of the foster system is to give children a glimpse of real family life. Something orphanages — no matter how loving — can’t offer.

The real good news, though, is that we let them know we’re also eager to adopt. After interviews, social worker visits, and assessments of our home, lifestyle and legal status, we were placed on the list of potential adoptive parents.

And a few months later, we got the call! There was a young baby girl who needed a home. Ella!

It was a national adoption in Belize. Ella would grow up in her home country, surrounded by her culture. And where our family had already planted roots. Our son became a big brother overnight.

And then, not long after, came the surprise — my wife was pregnant again. Just like that, we were preparing to welcome a third child. Lana, our youngest, was born a few months later, just slightly younger than her sister.

People laugh when we tell them their ages: eleven, eleven and thirteen.

“Oh, you have twins?”

Nope. Just a perfectly timed cosmic coincidence.

Their dynamic is pretty special. Their brother is the anchor.

This weekend, we’re throwing a joint birthday party for our girls.

You should see these parties. Ten kids from ten different nationalities. German. Creole. Maya. Italian. Swiss. American. Belizean. Chinese. Every accent in the book.

Sharing our news with our families in Europe.

My mother was a school principal. My wife’s mother taught teachers. Education ran deep on both sides. So when we told them we’re going to raise kids in Belize, you can imagine the reaction.

They thought we were out of our minds while picturing a coconut school.

But we saw a village. A tight-knit community. A place where kids still ride bikes to school.

Belize is multicultural by default. Schools here aren’t just one flavor. They’re a mix of cultures and backgrounds. Honduran, Maya, Chinese, Garifuna, European.

In a tourist town like Placencia, that mix gets even richer. Swedish classmates. Australian neighbors. Swiss, Dutch and American friends.

Our kids are growing up knowing the world doesn’t have borders.

Often, their friends move on because the parents' work calls for a different country, but they stay connected. One week it’s a call to Dubai. Next, a video chat with a friend in Germany. Their friend group is global. It gives them a sense of possibilities.

And they’re learning that communication isn’t optional.

English is only the beginning. They understand why learning other languages matters. Because their friends speak two or three. Because the world is bigger than any one place. And because connection goes deeper than just location.

When we arrived, Placencia had one school. That was it. One small school for the whole village.

But the community grew. Not just with expats, but with local families moving from other parts of Belize. The need for more seats, teachers and resources became impossible to ignore.

Today, there are public schools, private schools, tutoring programs and creative solutions for online learners.

The private schools follow the Belizean curriculum and often add whatever they believe brings extra value. For example, international content, project-based learning or specialized subjects.

Others follow American or British online programs but gather with a local teacher for support and help with their questions.

After school, they get involved in everything from music to marine life.

There’s always a retired music teacher in the village. Always someone willing to share a skill. Piano on Saturdays. Guitar on Wednesdays. Sometimes they love it. Sometimes they decide it sucks and never go back. That’s okay, too.

Our job as parents is to give them opportunities. Let them test things. See what fits.

They’ve access to beach clean-ups, the Crocodile Research Coalition (CRC), Humane Society volunteering. Lana spends Saturdays at the animal clinic, watching over dogs as they come out of surgery. That’s her job. She loves it.

Here’s what fascinates us about raising two girls the same age.

Same household. Same food. Same bedtime. Same inputs, but oh so different outcomes!

Ella is a pure artist. Maya heritage, deep emotional sensitivity, completely right-brained. She paints 10 to 30 sketches a day. Her walls are a canvas. We wake up some mornings to new figures painted in the middle of the night.

She has boxes filled with drawings. Thousands of them.

Our youngest daughter, Lana? All left-brain. Discipline. Precision. Gymnastics is her thing. Three classes a week, third-level training, total focus.

Plus, she’s got the business brain to match. She runs a candle business inside our coffee shop. Takes care of her display shelf and even trains our staff to use her sales slips and money box. Every day, she checks her sales and asks how the business performed. And when it comes to garden work, she negotiates her pay before picking up a single tool.

Three piggy banks! One for now, one for next year and one for when she’s eighteen.

Turns out, those wildly different outcomes are not surprising. And they’re science-backed. Studies in behavioral genetics indicate that the biggest drivers of individuality among siblings aren’t shared experiences, like parenting style or socioeconomic status, but what researchers call the non-shared environment.

There are subtle factors that shape a child’s development, like unique peer groups, personal interests and individual reactions to shared experiences. And of course, genetics.

And now, the party.

This weekend, we’ll celebrate them both. 

Two eleven-year-olds. 

One artistic, one entrepreneurial. 

One wild with a paintbrush, the other with a spreadsheet.

The guest list? International as ever. 

A wild mix of accents, backstories and belief systems. They’ll run around barefoot, maybe eat too much cake, and definitely stay up too late.

We’ll watch. Grateful. And a little emotional. 

Because raising kids in Belize is beautiful.