Siblings

I really like my siblings.  They are people that I would spend time with, even if I wasn't related to them.  We share a corny sense of humor and an affinity for donuts.  My sister and brother also demonstrate an incredible willingness to be helpful, kind, honest, and supportive.  I really think that they are top notch.


One of my greatest joys has been to watch my children become siblings.  My son was 3.5 when his little sister arrived.  He loved her from the start, but her noise and needs overwhelmed him.  More than once after being told to be gentle or she could get hurt he replied "you can just buy a new baby".  Which is both funny and f-ing terrifying.  For three months I lived on the edge of panic and awe as big brother came to understand his sister.* 


After three months, my daughter was actually eating, making her more sturdy and less grumpy, my 3.5-year-old starting turning into an almost 4-year-old, and after a surprisingly crumby southern winter, the sun came out.  Things started falling into place.


First it was that big brother could make sister smile.
Then it was that she was big enough that brother could hold her (with help from mom or dad).
Then came the laughing.
Then the sitting up.
Then the playing with toys together.
Then it was the rides in the double stroller.
Then the head-to-head nuzzle.
Then it was the bath time together until the water is cold and both of them are all pruney.

They used to be just two kids who happened to live together, but now they are siblings.


Every now and then as I watch them interact on the floor, I get this funny feeling that they are bonding together so as to team up against my husband and me in the future.  I have these little visions of the two of them demanding puppies or trips to amusement parks, and the visions-I always give in. 


I am grateful that they will have each other.  I know that the years of pulling hair, breaking things, arguing, and fighting are yet to come, but someday when they are in their 20's or 30's they'll have each other to complain to about the fact that their mom wrote the intimate details of their lives on an internet blog with a title about flatulence.  But you know what my darling children reading this in the future?  Tough shit.  Also, brush your teeth.  No one likes a stink mouth. XOXO, Mom




*This single paragraph recap is a gross underestimation of the struggle we endured as a family, but this is one of those "light at the end of the tunnel stories".