Jul 222010
 

As I mentioned yesterday, LittleBrother has been experiencing his first-ever “class” scenario. It’s an hour and a half of songs, stories and crafts. And other kids.

The latter being the kicker.

Brothers

LittleBrother is a social dude. His “awkward-hide-behind-Mommy’s-skirt” phase pales in comparison to how BigBrother refused to socialize at the same age. He likes other people, especially other kids. But his interaction with large numbers of other children are limited to an hour at the YMCA (er, “The Y”) child care (seven kids max). Even our church’s child care is limited in numbers right now. So while LittleBrother loves kids, he’s never really been in a setting where there were lots and lots of kids. (At the beginning of the week, one class featured 12 boys and 6 girls. Numbers have continued to rise as the week has gone on.)

Things have gone extremely well for both boys. Until yesterday.

Due to the size of the class, they have separated the kids by age when it comes time for crafts. The younger kids need more help and sit at one table, while the older kids who need less help sit at another table. This means that BigBrother and LittleBrother are, woe, separated. Of course, they’ll be separated by classrooms this fall in preschool, so it had to happen at some point. I’m not overly concerned, but I didn’t know how LittleBrother might respond. His brother has always been there, for better or worse. Back to craft time yesterday…

Someone spilled water on LittleBrother’s Toy Story sandals. Despite my repeated explanations that water doesn’t hurt, LittleBrother freaks out about spilled water. Especially on him. And apparently especially on his beloved sandals. So, he cried.

Now, remember, I’m not in class, too. The following happened organically.

BigBrother walked over to LittleBrother, took his cheeks in his hands (which we call “cheeky-cheeks”), gave him a hug and kiss and told him that it would be okay. And LittleBrother stopped crying.

Pardon me while I melt. And then pardon me while I attempt to figure out why they can’t act like that at home.

Brothers Walking to Class

I am so, so, so, so glad they have each other. (And yes, I will remind them of this story forever.)

Jun 102010
 

LittleBrother isn’t afraid of anything. His shins are perpetually bruised because he climbs over, under, around and into things that BigBrother would have never thought to look at, let alone conquer. You would think being from the same genetic material that they would be somewhat similar. Not so much.

LittleBrother’s courageous streak is why the child was in a toddler bed before he was a year old. Climber McGee wouldn’t stay put. He keeps me on the edge of my parenting desires. I don’t want to be the Helicopter Parent at the playground. But, man, it would be great if the child would remember that he’s not even three yet and quit trying to be such a Big Kid all the time because I also don’t want him to have another concussion.

At least he’s having fun, right? Or so it seems as I caught him on the underside of one of the play things at our park’s playground during a playdate with another firefighter’s son this week. He was kicking his legs out and swinging by his hands.

Swinging

Not even three. I’m doomed.

He also launched himself down a (covered) slide head first simply because he saw a Big Kid do it. You can see his brain working as he watches older kids on the playground. “What’s that kid doing? Oh, I see. He’s hanging upside down from the horse. Hmm, I wonder if I can do that, too?” Off he runs. He cracks me up. He worries me so. He is his own person. For that, I am glad.

Of course, then he taught the other firefighter’s son, just barely three, how to do it as well.

Swinging and Bossing

And there’s BigBrother, feet firmly planted on the ground, bossing everyone around.

Doomed. Doomed. Doomed.

_
[For more fun, this week's You Capture theme, visit I Should Be Folding Laundry. Next week is water.]