The other day Archer patted me on the hand.
"Mommy?" he said. "Can I go cuddle with Fable?"
"Of course!" I said. "Do you want to hold her?"
"No. I want to do spoons so we can cuddle."
So I layed Fable down in Archer's arms. He wrapped his hand around her waist and they stayed like that for several minutes. Her babbling to him and him whispering in her ear, smiling at me sheepishly when I caught him.
It wasn't until I was taking these pictures that I realized what he was saying.
Over and over in her ears, "I love you. I love you, my sister. Leetle seester. I love you so much."
I always wanted an older brother growing up. Someone to stick up for me when the boys stole my purple skateboard. "You can't play with us because you're a girl!" they said. My brother would have made them give my skateboard back.
I wanted an older brother to tag along with, to teach me to fish, to bring cute friends home so I could crush on them. So jealous was I of childhood friends with older brothers, even though I adored my little brother, little sister, and secretly enjoyed that they wanted to tag along with me.
I see the way Archer is with Fable and I think. "She's so lucky."
I didn't know how Archer would react to Fable's birth. I was nervous that he might reject her. Envy her infancy. Become more needy, less independent, even rough with her. I readied myself for the worst case scenario. I know now that I needn't have. From the very beginning they have belonged to one another, dearest friends and companions even though they've only been together five-months.
I cannot think of a more rewarding experience as a parent than watching my children go from complete strangers to best friends.
The look in his eyes says it all.
Don't even think about stealing Fable's skateboard.
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