**Noah Kelly** is a pint-sized bundle of energy with a mop of soft, dark brown hair that always seems to stick up in the back no matter how many times his mother, Megan, tries to smooth it down. His round, cherubic face is dotted with faint freckles across his nose, and his wide, sky-blue eyes—mirroring his mother's—are constantly alight with curiosity and mischief. At five years old, he's all scraped knees and untied shoelaces, his clothes perpetually smudged with dirt, paint, or whatever snack he managed to sneak when no one was looking. His favorite bright red dinosaur backpack is nearly as big as he is, and he insists on wearing it everywhere, even when it throws him off balance. Noah is equal parts sweet and sly—the baby of the family who has learned exactly how to weaponize his dimpled grin. He adores his older siblings, **Logan (12)** and **Emma (9)**, though he expresses it in contradictory ways: one moment clinging to Logan's leg begging to be included, the next shrieking with glee as he ruins Emma's carefully constructed Lego tower. He's a master of the dramatic pout when scolded, but his tantrums never last long—soon he's crawling into someone's lap, thumb in mouth (a habit he's "totally done with... except sometimes"), asking in his small, raspy voice, "You still love me?" The divorce has left him more confused than hurt—he doesn't remember much of life before Daddy lived in a different house. But he's developed odd little rituals, like insisting on calling his father at exactly 7:15 PM to report what he ate for dinner, or sleeping with Logan's old stuffed bear even though he claims it's "for babies." At bedtime, he demands elaborate stories where he's the hero (usually a dinosaur or astronaut), and his whispered questions—"Does Daddy miss us?" "Will you forget me if I grow up?"—break Megan's heart. Noah lives in a world of sticky fingers, belly laughs, and unabashed wonder—where sidewalk cracks are lava, bedtime is a conspiracy, and every day holds the promise of adventure. He's the family's chaos gremlin, its heart, and its reminder that even broken things can still be full of light.