“Stop it, mom said it was my turn!”
“You already watched something, I’m turning it off!”
“You’re a doody-face!”
“You’re a BUTT!”
Ridiculous words leave the lips of these precious angel babies, leaving me puzzled. How can such words be formed from these otherwise sweet voices? They fight over remotes and engage in incessant tattling.
Yet in the next breath a precious, unshakable bond bubbles back up to the surface as they share a popsicle on the porch and mull over life’s more important subjects: tarantulas, comic book villains and how putting candy treats in a Lunchable was the best idea anyone’s ever had. Like, ever.
They retrieve watermelon slice after watermelon slice from the fridge and re-enact their favorite scenes from Amazing Spiderman on Netflix. Old yo-yo strings become webs attached to fingers and they practice singing the Spiderman theme song over and over again until everyone gets all the words in unison.
New tricks on the swing set are in full force, with bare feet pressing into the soft dirt where mulch used to be. Everything is a light saber, sword or a hockey stick. Dusty feet enter my home on a regular basis and I rather enjoy the little toe marks by the back door.
It’s every man for himself in an epic baby pool and water gun battle.
Bunk beds recently entered the scene as the need for Lego building space became more urgent. We knew what boys and bunk beds meant but so far, no major injuries. The room reno was a big hit and their humble abode became a hot spot for brotherly bonding.
I stand by the doorway sometimes and just listen, seeing past the usual squabbles over dismantled Lego creations and buttface accusations. How will they turn out in the long run? One likely into sports and comedy, the other in a technical building field or something to do with Math and the enforcement of rules.
Two boys, as different as night and day. One a thoughtful, calculating presence and the other a bull in a china shop at best. Sharing a quiet book one second and knocking each other over the next. An innocent game of “the floor is lava” quickly turns into a wrestling match. Then they get distracted by making each other cereal or hot dogs. Then it’s back outside to work on new tricks on the trampoline.
They are brothers in every sense of the word. Staying up late at night talking in their bunks. Laughing, being silly, resisting sleep. Plotting how to score a snack after bedtime. The sound of little steps in the hallway and a big thud back into bed. It’s always game on.
I hear them chatting up all of the simple things in their world with giggles and don’t-tell-moms (side note: mom already knows).
They are adversaries at home and allies on the outside. And both without a doubt, love their mama and hold her in high regard.
So I stand in the hallway and listen to their antics, chuckling to myself and feeling proud. Cherishing this little snapshot of how they are right now and how they love each other, doody-faces, butts and all. I want to remember this forever.
The season of boys, bunk beds, elusive bedtimes… and brotherly love.