Brotherly (and Sisterly) Love
The other day, our little girl was out playing in the yard with a neighbor about her age, and a non-malicious shove sent her face-first onto the ground. She stood up crying and was whisked into the house for some therapeutic cuddling.
Inside the house, her big brother, made curious by her sobbing, approached with a concerned expression. Looking her in the eye, the wannabe rescuer asked sweetly, "Do you need a Band-Aid, tape, or a splint?"
This kind of care between the two of them sometimes surprises and always pleases me. Observing it, I've come to convince myself that my children are the only two in the world who won't go through adolescent periods of despising and/or ignoring each other. No, they will exchange only tender, encouraging words and will adore each other invariably.
Their behavior--and particularly our son's--during the first week of their mama's new job further enforced that wishful perception of mine. On my first day of work, I found myself in a bit of a self-absorbed tizzy as I dropped them off. I was naturally worried about them, but I was also dwelling on what *I* was doing and how these choices of *MINE* would affect them.
In a missing-the-forest-for-the-trees phenomenon, that tizzy of mine--supposedly centered on their well-being--kept me from noticing what they were experiencing in that moment. I was off in the future, wondering whether their verbal skills would dwindle or whether their personalities would morph from sweet to aggressive, while they were, as always, there in the present, taking in what was before them.
I got the young one settled first that day and then located coat hook and storage basket for the elder. I was hugging him goodbye and was ready to leave, already bracing for the heartache that would bring on, when the boy said, "Mama, I want to say goodbye to my sister."
That snapped me back to the moment--a moment in which two constant playmates were separated in a way foreign to them. And while it made me sad to be responsible for bringing on this separation five months earlier than kindergarten would have, it also made me incredibly grateful that my children love each other so well--and, according to my fantasy, that they'll do so without hiccup or interruption for the rest of their lives.
Inside the house, her big brother, made curious by her sobbing, approached with a concerned expression. Looking her in the eye, the wannabe rescuer asked sweetly, "Do you need a Band-Aid, tape, or a splint?"
This kind of care between the two of them sometimes surprises and always pleases me. Observing it, I've come to convince myself that my children are the only two in the world who won't go through adolescent periods of despising and/or ignoring each other. No, they will exchange only tender, encouraging words and will adore each other invariably.
Their behavior--and particularly our son's--during the first week of their mama's new job further enforced that wishful perception of mine. On my first day of work, I found myself in a bit of a self-absorbed tizzy as I dropped them off. I was naturally worried about them, but I was also dwelling on what *I* was doing and how these choices of *MINE* would affect them.
In a missing-the-forest-for-the-trees phenomenon, that tizzy of mine--supposedly centered on their well-being--kept me from noticing what they were experiencing in that moment. I was off in the future, wondering whether their verbal skills would dwindle or whether their personalities would morph from sweet to aggressive, while they were, as always, there in the present, taking in what was before them.
I got the young one settled first that day and then located coat hook and storage basket for the elder. I was hugging him goodbye and was ready to leave, already bracing for the heartache that would bring on, when the boy said, "Mama, I want to say goodbye to my sister."
That snapped me back to the moment--a moment in which two constant playmates were separated in a way foreign to them. And while it made me sad to be responsible for bringing on this separation five months earlier than kindergarten would have, it also made me incredibly grateful that my children love each other so well--and, according to my fantasy, that they'll do so without hiccup or interruption for the rest of their lives.
posted by Lisa Strandberg at 9:45 PM
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