Brotherly Love
Welcome to my weekly post for the Slice of Life, hosted by Two Writing Teachers each Tuesday. I made it through a whole month, I can do a weekly post!
Living in the “city of brotherly love” and having two sons
is an interesting combination. We of the Philly crew tend to catch a lot of
crap for our lack of true filial affection for those around us. This week,
though, has made me think that perhaps we Broad Street Bullies do really
understand the nature of that strangest of bonds – brotherhood.
For those not in the know, I have two boys. I was thankful
to get those two boys, mind you. When my second baby boy entered the world, the
question on many lips was “Will you try for a girl?” My answer was (edited for audience)… a firm “no”. I
always connected with Jo from Little Women, and imagined myself as a teacher in
an all-boys school or the mother of boys. I do imagine I would have been a good
mom for a girl, but I’m perfectly content with my dynamic duo.
Brotherly love, though, is a thing of wonder. My boys
frequently amaze me with the mercurial nature of their affection for one
another. Last week I had the perfect example.
“Mom, he’s looking at me funny,” declared the older child.
(Honestly! I thought that was just a phrase comedians used before I became a
mother.)
With a single eyebrow cocked, smirking all the while, the
younger child indicated his disdain for that statement. Thus, of course, making
the older child flip out again. The little one is an expert button pusher, and
has been since he was old enough to toddle. I have to remember to share some of
those stories one of these days. The older one, as he nears adolescence, has
buttons the size of archery targets. It’s a wonderful combination.
Voices got shriller – louder – and I couldn’t even send them
to their rooms for a cooling off period. We were in lovely, manic, preparing
for school mode. Fists raised, glares exchanged, though they both knew better
than to actually throw any punches. A few threats later, and they were quietly
gobbling down their breakfast.
Out of the blue, the little one declared, “I want to start
violin this summer instead of waiting until next school year.”
With a huge grin on his face, big brother hopped up from the
table and snatched up his violin.
“I can show you a few things now, and maybe I can teach you
this summer!” he announced, and then proceeded to give a little demonstration
of some of his simpler songs from third grade.
Bemused, I let the impromptu music lesson continue for a few
minutes while I packed the lunches. How did two children who were about to maim
one another just moments before turn into this sweet tableau of love and
affection?
Yes, we do have it right here in Philly. There is a good
reason that it only takes one missing letter to turn “bother” into “brother”.
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