Bou and PG love each other. Most days. Other days I’m refereeing a 1970s style goon hockey game.
My kids can argue a point with each other with as much eloquence as the most romantic and tragic dialogue from Dumas’ The Three Musketeers. Their facility with words in Canada’s two official languages makes me a proud Maman. Unless it’s round 12 of the bout and there’s no end in sight because neither fighter will concede defeat. Then it’s not so much brag-worthy as, “who ARE these children and where were they raised? On a battlefield? Those parents are unconscionable.” Oh wait…that’s us. Aren’t they brilliant little angels?
There’s also some stabbing. But only using rubber toy swords from a long ago knight’s costume. Somehow the sword never made it to a donation box. You just never know when you may need to stab your older brother in the clavicle with it. The sword has now been confiscated and has joined the light-saber. Because impalement by light-saber is not as painless as it sounds either.
At times – okay, often, there is also teasing and poking and button-pushing, which can lead to major meltdowns, and not only mine. Should PG not further her pursuit of either cute-genius-scientist or future Canadian Equestrian Team member there is the possibility that she will take home the César, Oscar, Tony, and any other man-named award available.
But take away all of that……..go ahead, I’ll wait………there’s a lot to clear away….
Take away all of that and you’re left with two kids who love each other. Bou is away at an outdoor cottage country camp for a few days this week. The days preceding his departure had PG preparing for how terribly she was going to miss him. She’s a planner that girl. When she wasn’t waxing about the tragedy of his departure and designing the paper cutout she was making of him so she could constantly be reminded of her big brother, she was invading his space. He’ll be 13 soon. This didn’t go over well.
Her invasion was prompted by love and there were many requests for snuggles. Bou eventually complied. On the morning of his departure – he’s only gone for 3 days – PG gave him repeated bear hugs which were followed by at least 14 kisses blown to him from the front door as we backed out of the driveway. On the first night, after tucking her into bed, she called out, “I love you Bou. Sweet dreams.” Bou, on his end, probably crashed into his bunk at a ridiculously late hour after having had a day of running through the bush and eating too many marshmallows, and with nary a thought for his family. It’s all about having perspective and for him 3 days is just 3 days.
The sibling cuteness comes in doses. No sense in overindulging.
Kat @ jackstrawlane
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