1:00 p.m. on a Saturday
L. (2) should be getting ready for his nap. C. (10) should be getting started on the homework he’s managed to avoid so far this weekend.
But just before I’m about to turn into Mommy Drill Sergeant and direct them both to their quarters to get to work (or get to sleep, as the case may be), I hear something. It’s the sound of two brothers wrestling in the other room. There are giggles, there are happy shrieks. L. asks for, “More, C.!” C. obliges.
I wait, knowing that these moments pass far too quickly. Even widely-spaced siblings manage to get into plenty of fights, so I don’t want to interrupt this time of mutual enjoyment, matching laughter, brotherly affection.
4:00 p.m. on a Saturday
The situation is ripe for an explosion. Both boys want to use the computer. I hold back, sitting just out of sight, waiting to see if and how they’ll work it out, hoping I don’t have to step in and arbitrate, hoping they’ll come up with a solution on their own.
Lo and behold: they do! Both sit down at the computer together. I don’t know which one has gained control of the mouse, thereby deciding which program will run. But I don’t hear any arguments and as far as I can tell, neither child has been shoved, bitten, or conked on the head. And that’s good enough for me.
Then it gets even better. I hear L. say, spontaneously, “I love you, C.” (which, in L.-speak, sounds like, “I vuv voo, Cammet.”). That alone is enough to melt my heart. But then C. replies with, “I love you too, L.” and I could swear I hear the sound of one brother giving the other a kiss on the cheek.
I remain in my seat, unwilling to break into this moment, but committing it to memory. These are moments I treasure.
4:12 p.m. on a Saturday
The spell is broken. I don’t know who started it, but L. is now shrieking, and not in a happy way. C. decides to go up to his room, where there are no screaming little brothers. L. happily takes over the mouse and the keyboard and starts up his “penguin game.”
Yes, the moment is over. I knew it wouldn’t last forever. I know that an unavoidable part of having more than one child is listening to regular kerfluffles. (Note: That’s the second time I used that word — kerfluffle — in the last couple days; I don’t know where it came from, but I think it’s out of my system now.)
But those first two moments? The ones with the love and the happiness and the getting along and the sibling enjoyment? Those are special. Those are the ones to hold on to and to encourage. Those are the ones I replay in my mind and heart, over and over.
I love you, C..
I love you, L..
Beautiful.
And so universal, or at least here in this house. Maybe it’s because our children are similarly spanned in age or similar in temperament, but each of those three occurrences — both the kerfluffles and the love — happen a lot around here (I’ll plead the fifth on which happens more often).
Having a close brother below me, and another brother 5 years my senior (your hubby) I know what that can be like. Your boys will remember and cherish those memories as well, even if those memories migrate to the fog of inarticulate memories, the emotions toward each other will stay in tact.
You do well at parenting if this is a regular enough occurrence. Congrats!
Such sweet moments you have down to share with L. when he is older and to remind C. off when hes have a tough day with L..
Once I finish crying over here over the sheer beauty of those moments, I will tell you that I too treasure these with my own kiddos. I even have some of them documented on film for proof later on!
I loved the way you stood back to let them sort out. Often it is tempting to step in and be a rescuer, but I think kids learn much more by negotiating for themselves where possible.
Is Jennifer always the first up on the comments? What a friend!
“kerfluffle”–I am well impressed.
Those are such sweet moments between brothers–I love spontaneous affection of any kind expressed by my guys…for each other!