cat named pig

[Warning: If you are currently debating whether or not to have a second child, please be advised that when you read this, you might spontaneously ovulate.] 

Yesterday at the park, Siena, her friend Jackson, and Elliot were all going down this wide bumpy slide together, with Elliot in the middle. Over and over. Elliot was loving the fact that he could do what the bigger kids were doing. He could not get enough of that slide. Each time they went down, Siena carefully made sure Elliot was all situated in the middle before they started moving. And each time Elliot went down by himself, she stood at the bottom and caught him. She would even give him a kiss on the head each time she lifted him down.

I just stood there in a puddle of my melted heart and watched this for a while, kind of amazed that Siena even wanted to play with her brother for so long. Usually at the park she’s too busy pushing imaginary friends on the swings or playing with other (non-imaginary) big kids. But then it got even better. . . .

A couple of boys, one about Siena’s age and one older, showed up and ran right for the same slide. I moved a little closer, just in case one of them should accidentally jostle Elliot while he was at the top. But I didn’t need to worry. Siena, standing at the bottom to catch her brother, held up her hand and said, “WAIT — my little brother’s gonna go, then you can go.” And the other kids waited. 

Just thinking about that little display of big-sister-protectiveness brings a smile to my face. I picture them in a few years, Elliot starting kindergarten with Siena there to hold his hand on the way into school. And then Elliot starting college with Siena there to send him care packages (or buy beer for him and his friends). I’m glad they have each other. 

At home, they fight like cats and dogs siblings, grabbing toys from each other and crying for me when the wrestling turns into Ultimate Street Fighting. But they also build block towers together, and she reads board books to him, reciting the words from memory as he turns the pages. And when either of them wakes up in the morning, or comes home from somewhere, the first question is always, “Where’s Elliot?” or in Elliot’s case, “NENA?” You know they’re thrilled to see each other. And then they start fighting. 

When we thought about having a second child, we expected the fighting. And we expected, as parents, to be absolutely crazy about both of them, more love to share, the second one will be easier because we’ve done this before, blah blah blah. The things you focus on because you don’t want to think about the sleep deprivation and the diapers and the staggering amount of luggage it takes to leave the house with two children. But I don’t think I ever expected to see this much love between the two of them. If I had to pick a favorite part of being a mother of two, that would be it. Definitely worth all the sleepless nights, the eleventy-BILLION diaper changes, and the having to pack a rolling suitcase full of snacks and diaper wipes and crayons just to run to Walgreen’s for more diaper wipes.