I have two children – and mostly, they get along great. Okay, mostly, it’s when I’m not here. I hear beautiful stories of them playing together and Jessie taking care of him and Sammy kissing her with cupcake frosting all over him when they’re with my mother. In public places, like if I go to Jessie’s classroom and take him, or at the synagogue, they are best friends and it’s beautiful. But at home, with me, mostly, they seem to fight. I know it’s not all the time, and that it just seems as though all they do is scream at each other. Especially because it’s February vacation and they’ve got a lot of one on one time going on – it’s natural and normal for them to fight and not an indication of crappy parenting on my part (regardless of what the little voice in my head says).
But every now and again, I’ll catch them just being so incredibly adorable together. Sam and I were just sitting in what we call the comfy chair. It’s a broken recliner than I can’t bring myself to get rid of, because it’s so big and cozy. Sam’s was all snuggled up and suddenly he started screaming and shaking and sobbing. I jumped off the chair, heart racing and dragged him with him, and figured out that it was an ant crawling up the chair that had freaked him out. It must have just surprised him – but his little body was trembling and he was so scared. I told him to go see Jessie to keep him safe and that I’d take care of the ant. And he ran to his big sister and crawled up into her arms. And then, then, I knew that I was doing a good job. He knows that safety lies with his big sister, she knows that part of her job as a big sister is to reassure him, and even though it was just an ant – it was so sweet to see him rely on her and her to naturally know just what to say to make him feel better.
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