By Megan
Every weekday at 4 PM my phone plays a lively guitar tune. It’s the alarm I’ve set to remind Peabody and me that we need to get ready and go meet Bean as she gets off of the school bus. Without fail, Peabody hears the music and begins grinning ear to ear. Just this past week, he finally decided on a name for his sister, “Nee,” and so now with his grinning, he squeals out “Nee!!! NEE!! NeeNeeNeeNeeNee!” and he races to the door to wait for me to put on his shoes and coat and then we take off down the sidewalk to meet our girl. She greets him with a hug or a hair tussle, and a loud, proud, “HI, PEABODY!!!”
We got here so fast, too. Just yesterday, it seems like, she was helping the nurse in the maternity ward give him his first bath, shyly examining his teeny fingers and toes, and sitting stock-still, wide-eyed, breathless and mesmerized as we placed him on a pillow on her lap for the first time. Since even before those quiet, awe-filled days just after his birth, even as she and I bathed together and she’d place her wet hand hand on my growing belly, I’ve wished out loud with them for just what they are to one another now. “He will be your best friend, Bean.” “She will be there for you, no matter what.”
They can’t appreciate now the bond that being children together will forge for them, this I know, as I lived 18 years with my sister, never giving a thought to the simple, immeasurable blessing it is to have one person, one soul, who shares almost every single moment of my own childhood history. A conversation with her is like writing the 67th chapter of the book I haven’t even started yet, and knowing she’s already fully-versed in the back-story.
I’m realistic about my kids’ future as siblings – I gently shovel back the edges of the landslide of hope I have for their on-going relationship with the blade of knowledge that he is this boy who roughs and tumbles and mimics and tantrums and screeches and she is this girls who lately “wants a little privacy” and tattles and doesn’t like to share. I expect periods of icky rivalry and antagonism. But I’m determined to bring my own experience and determination to bear, and to do what I can to influence mutual respect, devotion and loyalty. “Go to him. He’s calling for you, Bean. He is your brother,” I coach her, as she plays sometimes, oblivious to his solicitations of her attention. “You must be gentle with your sister, Peabody. She takes care of you now, but you need to learn to care for her as well – you may one day be her champion and defender.”
They are sweet souls, each of them in their own way, and also both imperfect, of course. For them to learn to love, cherish, forgive, serve and protect one another while they are young and tucked under our wings, is, I believe, for them to leave home so much better prepared for all that life will bring them.
Beautiful. 🙂
Steph
What a beautiful post, it brought tears to my eyes. Thank you for sharing!
So beautiful, and just what I hope my son will someday have in a sibling. I’m blessed with 7. While most of them are much younger than me, and still children themselves, I do have a brother with whom I share this bond. It’s an amazing blessing!
My heart sings when I hear my one of my kids refer to another as their best friend. And when they inevitably fight I remind them that they will always be brothers and sisters and they should go ahead and start liking each other again. 😉 I do treasure my siblings (one older sister and one younger brother) and know that siblings are the best gift I could give my children.
how beautiful, i hope when my little one is born the big brother will be just as sweet and gentle
I love this — and the gentle ways you’ve come up with to point them in the right direction.
Beautiful… it seems like they love and appreciate one another. I also come from a close family…one of eight! I don’t know what I would do without any of them. I hope I can give my son some siblings.
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