I didn’t quite know what to make of my particular situation yesterday afternoon.
Following our appointment, we swung by the local Sonic for a frozen treat when, out of the mouths of babes, came words so often forgotten in our house: “Thank you, Mom”. I looked into the backseat…they looked like MY children, their voices were the same, but….using MANNERS!? They handed me their trash instead of dumping it into the floorboards as is so often the case and quietly and happily set to eating their sugary bounty. I responded with a faint “You’re welcome” and drove on home trying to figure out who the backseat strangers were who’d replaced my two kiddos.
I just knew it would hit the fan when we got home. Imagine my surprise when it didn’t.
My ritual is for the kids to make their beds and pick up their dump, I mean their rooms every afternoon. This is generally accompanied by great, heaving sighs and excessive eyeball rolling. Not so today. I could’ve eaten off the floor, no lie.
The two of them then sat down with numerous scrapbooks I’ve done over the years, Paige giving Seth her full attention as he read off each blurb accompanying the pictures. They sat there, heads bent together, as Seth shared memories of Paige as a baby. They hadn’t been that sweet with one another since before Paige learned to talk. This strange behavior continued for the remainder of the evening.
This is what I imagined a sibling relationship would be like when I was growing up as an only child. It’s all too much to hope for: good manners put into practice, loving words and gestures between sibs…clean rooms. I hope it lasts.