Sibling Revelry

Recently, a friend mentioned his brother had undergone quintuple bypass surgery.  As my eyes widened with concern, my friend tossed a hand in the air.   “He’s fine,” he grumbled, like his brother had just faked pulling a hammy. 

Sibling love is not a guarantee. 

I thought it was.  I thought that the kids I pushed into the world would automatically hand over a kidney for each other.  And I thought this despite me, as a kid, pulling out enough hair from my older sister’s head to stuff a throw pillow, and once giving my younger brother a (possibly deserved) black eye.  Scuffles with my siblings faded from memory as Rich and I started our own family.  Our family, we told ourselves, was not going to be a repeat of our childhoods. Our kids were going to love each other.

And they did love each other . . . except when they didn’t.

When the skirmishes broke out in our brood, Rich and I could have considered it a parenting fail, but instead, we took it as a sign--a sign that we should have another kid.  If they wanted to fight, we would give them more people to fight with!  Okay, I’m joking, but we did realize that parenting was going to involve brokering peace.

And while we didn’t get so good at it as to have attracted the eye of the U.N., we did have our own share of breakthroughs, and one Sunday afternoon that was exactly what I thought I was witnessing, a breakthrough.

I was in the kitchen (carefully organizing the utensil drawer) when I heard Sam say, “I love you.”  My heart fluttered with happiness.  Sam had said I love you, and before I could question to whom he was speaking, Caroline chimed in with, “I love you, too!”

Caroline and Sam were declaring their love for each other!  The words had come effortlessly!  And no one was dying!  This was progress!

We had always encouraged our kids to say I love you, and they did, saying it so often they seemed to use it like a period at the end of a sentence.  I’m going outside, love you.  Dad said to pick up milk, love you.  But that was mostly when speaking with us.  This was Sam and Caroline speaking to each other.

I’m a big believer in calling out bad behavior, so much so, that if someone were to make a Lisa robot, she’d have to be programmed to say, That is inappropriate!  But I’m also a big fan of acknowledging good behavior, and my children saying they loved each other was just the sort of thing that needed to be acknowledged.

I turned around, ready to compliment them when I realized what had just happened.  Sam and Caroline were seated at our dining room table, facing each other, and in between them was Deezsha.

They had both been talking to our dog.

So, the moment wasn’t a breakthrough, but it was a moment.  They were spending time together and were agreeing on something.  Come to think of it, it was more than a moment.

It was a win.