November 26, 2011

Two more minutes

The other day my dad, who just gets more handsome as his beard gets more white, said to me, "We know how the bonding process is going between you and Jubilee, but what about the bond with her brothers?"

So today I will highlight the bond between "The Toddlers," as we call them.  Everything he can do, she can do she can't...yes she can (reference to Annie Get Your Gun, which I saw once with my mother-in-law on Turner Classic Movies).  If he gets a scrape and needs a band aid, she needs a band aid for her "scrape," too.  If she gets to take her socks off, he immediately wants nothing more in all the world than to be barefooted.  They will both be walking along happily, until I pick one of them up.  Then the other one is no longer content to be walking.  Many tears ensue.  I usually have to crouch down and scoop them both on a knee for a moment until they are certain that I love them both very much.  She usually chooses the right knee, he the left.  Of course, they would prefer that I stand up and hold them, but I am not a professional body builder.  Brave alone ways as much as a medium-sized dog.

They quarrel some, but mostly play.  While Bright and Zion are attached at the hip, these two are, too.  They chase each other from one end of the apartment to the other.  They bring each other toys or treats that they think the other might like.  They even hold hands, unsolicited, for pictures in their Sunday best outside of McDonald's after Daddy preaches about Hannah longing for her Messiah to come.
And without fail, when told to put their toys down and come to the table, or to the bathtub, or to bed, they both look up at us with two fingers in the air and petition, almost in unison, "Two more minutes???"