Abigail Cukier, The Amazing Adventures of Wonder(ing) Woman
As a parent, there are those moments, in fact, there are so many of them, that make every load of laundry, sleepless night and spot of spit-up on your shirt worth it.
Like the other morning, when I turned to look at my kids in the family room. They were cuddled on the couch and my son had his arm around his little sister.
That day, when I picked up my son from JK and told him we had to go get his little sister from daycare, he said, “Here I come. I love you!”
More and more, my four-year-old son and his two-and-a-half-year-old sister are becoming best friends. And my caring boy is becoming the nurturing big brother.
When my daughter gets in trouble, she cries into her brother’s arms. And if my son forgets to hug her before we leave for JK, he complains to me and pledges it will be the first thing he does later.
Each morning, while I am getting us ready to go, they play “princess and her baby,” where my daughter puts on her princess dress and tends to him. Or they gather every one of his trucks and line them up in the hall. (I especially love this one, as I am trying to tidy the house).
From when they were born, my husband and I have taught them to respect each other, give hugs and say, “I love you.” But it amazes me how these little people are finding their own way into each other’s hearts.
Of course, there are tears and shouts of “Leave me alone.” But for the most part, there is no other way they’d rather spend their time than with each other.
Seeing them together reminds me of my big brother. We have a larger age gap – he’s five years older than me – but we were amazingly close growing up, and still are.
It was my brother who taught me to ride a bike and took me to get my ears pierced. Every day, he walked me to school. And when he started high school and could have taken a short cut, he went the long way so he could be with me.
Last Sunday, when Springsteen played Copps Coliseum, we stood eight feet from the stage together and screamed into each other’s ears and beamed when he sang our favourites.
And when Springsteen sang Terry’s Song, which he wrote as a tribute to his longtime assistant and friend who died in 2007, we stood with our arms around each other, tears in our eyes, thinking about our dad who died in 2010.
I thought about how happy my dad would be that we were together, my big brother comforting me like he always has.
And then I thought about my little girl and smiled. Because she has a big brother too.