I was in the kitchen when I heard a sound like a little miracle from the living room. It was a 9 month old belly laugh lurching out in spurts at the prompting of a three year old. Not the least of the miracle was the fact that the 9 month old part of that equation had just popped two teeth--simultaneous eruptions of exactly the same height and width in the center of his bottom gum--the night before. It was a labor of love impossible for him to sleep through. He had been a Teething Mimi for the past 24 hours, during which time there were no smiles.
The second marvelous aspect of the scenario was the instigator. The delight The Boss took in entertaining her brother was totally new. Up to that moment, she'd sooner let him choke on a Gerber Puff than divert her attention from the television to notice his windpipe had been compromised. But then she did something that made him laugh. Sequestered in the kitchen, I didn't know what it was. But he did it again, and again. He really laughed. Suddenly The Boss didn't want him to stop.
It's these moments that remind me of the potential that lays before them as brother and sister. It's the belly laugh that brings me to the dinner table where my own brother would put me in stitches nightly. It's the adoration that comes unconditional not from up high, like mom and dad's, but from ground level, down and dirty, where the most fun is had.
The Boss and Number Two have no idea yet how their sibling bond will play out, but in that moment in the living room while mom was away, they may have gotten their first inkling.