Close. Practically inseparable. These words describe my youngest two – a girl and a boy separated by twenty-five months and born in different parts of the world.
They talk incessantly. They play, for hours on end. They laugh together – deep wondrous laughs that originate in and bubble up out of their bellies.
We’ve heard them talk to each other in their sleep. One starts with a question and the other answers. It’s odd and, yet, deeply moving.
They bicker. Oh, do they bicker. And they fight. It’s mean and quick.
Yesterday afternoon the bickering turned ugly. Put-downs were being thrown back and forth and the tears were in full runoff. I knew they were tired, but that didn’t justify what was going on in the back of my taxi. Racking my very-tired-at-the-end-of-day brain I came up with a new discipline spin last evening for Aubry and Greyson: no talking or being with each other for the rest of the night. If the rule was broken, they would be going straight to bed; no dinner, no nothing.
We had a nice dinner. It was followed by a bike ride for Aubry (since she asked first) and Holden. Greyson began to fuss about it, but stopped when Mark gave him the “look”. Preparations for bed and the next morning went smoothly and quietly.
Breakfast this morning was pleasant. Holden drove us all to school and Aubry asked if she and Greyson could talk to one another.
“Sure, sweetie. Remember the rules.”
But, before she spoke to her brother, she apologized to him and to me. Greyson did the same. I was so proud. I hope the separation made an impact. We’ll see how this afternoon goes…