My only brother is three years younger than me. Although many years ago, I cut most of his hair off against his wishes, now into adulthood, we get along well. Our kids are similar ages, and we spend time together for dinners and playdates. We help one another out with childcare or moving a bookshelf when required.
My husband has a younger sister so when our first child was born, we knew we would plan to have siblings. Our daughter, the perfect playmate, was born two-and-a-half years later.
Watching a sibling bond evolve is extraordinary. When she was an infant, my toddler son was obsessed with making his sister smile, bringing toys and making faces until her eyes lit up. As she became mobile and began reaching for his blocks, the infatuation turned to irritation, and he began building pillow walls to keep her away.
Next was indifference as she formed her own interests and played independently. Throughout this period, there were sweet moments, sharing stories and snacks or chasing one another at the playground. There were also fights over toys, pushes out of frustration and sometimes tears directed at one another over nothing at all. The two-and-a-half-year age gap felt wide, and I wondered if they’d ever find common ground. My husband and I often chose to divide and conquer as there were few activities the clumsy preschooler and the high-energy schoolboy could enjoy simultaneously.
Last year, my daughter started kindergarten and for the first time, both kids attended the same school. This milestone came with a positive adjustment to our morning routine and the beginnings of a friendship that is only possible outside the watchful eyes of parents. Since welcoming his younger sister to his elementary school, my son has become protective and nurturing. The first few weeks, he checked on his sister at recess and lunchtime, making sure she had found friends to play with and that she had eaten her sandwich. When the school had a (surprise to me) hot chocolate fundraiser at lunchtime, he dug in his schoolbag for an extra loonie so she wouldn’t go without.
After school as the three of us walk home, they debrief their days, chatting about kids and games I’m not familiar with. Watching them nod along in solidarity while I’m struggling to keep up with the conversation is somewhat isolating but mostly enjoyable. At home, they read Roald Dahl classics together and now that my daughter can strategize and understand simple games, they play Uno and build MAGNA-TILES. The arguments are more heated, and the pushes are sometimes aggressive but there’s a mutual understanding not to be too rough and to forgive fast. My daughter’s big eyes make my son melt and he concedes immediately.
As the calendar ticked over recently, my son declared his New Year’s resolution was to be kinder to his sister. “I’ve realized,” he told me earnestly, with all of his eight years of wisdom, “that when we work as a team, we’re unstoppable.”
I was immediately terrified as I know he’s right.
Despite the arguments, the “didn’t touch yous” and the endless competitions for who did it faster, or, depending on the day, who did it slower, I love watching the relationship blossom.
Their play, collaboration and conversations get more complex and more fun at the same time. The inside jokes, special game rules and secret words when they’re plotting to ask for extra playground time are no doubt just getting started.
