Brothers

My sons typically get along pretty well and are well-behaved for the most part, even though they are rambunctious and all boy, too. However, recently they have been bickering and wrestling and generally having a hard time getting along more than usual, especially on the days we don’t have anywhere we need to go or anything much planned to do. (Note to self: plan more to do even though it’s hot, hot, hot outside!) They fight over extremely stupid things, too, as little boys are prone to do. And the eruptions of screaming, thumping, pushing, pulling, pinching, yelling, crying and ultimately fist fights inevitably happen while I’m changing the baby’s diaper or giving her a bath or some other equally pressing activity that I cannot immediately leave to stop the fisticuffs. This ends up in me yelling across the house for them to separate immediately until I can get there. That goes over well. I feel like I need the wisdom of Solomon to sort out the various “He said…,” “He started…,” “But it’s mine…,” “No, it’s mine….,” and so on that I hear at least a thousand times a day. Most of the time whatever the disagreement is over is not even important enough to sort out, but much more important is to get them calmed down and focused on something else. Sometimes the wisest intervention I can make is, “Go outside and ride your bikes around the block twice, boys!” Too much togetherness and not enough other kids to play with outside, I’m thinking.

But, just when I start thinking they will never get along and hoping they will at least be on speaking terms when they are adults, one of them will do something incredibly thoughtful for the other. Like one night a week or two ago. D was away on Army business, again, and after putting the boys to bed, I was in my room trying to get caught up on my Bible study for the next Wednesday, when I heard M coming down the stairs sniffling and crying and I heard J talking to him. I looked up as they came into my room, and M tearfully told me he was really scared. J said, “He’s scared for some reason. He wants to sleep in your room, Mom.” I realized then that J had walked his little brother across the house to my room in the dark because M was too scared to come by himself. It was so special to see that J had done something kind and unselfish for his little brother rather than just getting annoyed with him.

Of course I let M tell me all about what he was scared of and tried to reassure him and let him sleep in my room that night. But the next morning, I let J know how incredibly proud of him I am that he stuck up for his little brother like that. In spite of all the too much togetherness, when crisis comes (and being scared of the dark is a crisis when you’re a highly imaginative 6-year-old), it’s nice to be reminded that they really do love each other.