Brothers and Friends

Something odd has been happening lately.  (Odd and GOOD, I should say.)  Sawyer and Lincoln are really starting to become friends.

Not always--there are still the moments of fighting over toys or whatever else, and Lincoln is starting to fight back or react back when Sawyer isn't nice.  But there have been a few heart-melting moments this week that I have to share.

While getting ready for church (always a challenge), I was in my room getting dressed and felt like it was too quiet out in the TV room.  I came out, fully expecting the boys to either be zoned into the TV (a necessity to getting ready for church with two kids when your spouse has to leave an hour earlier than you do) or into trouble.  Instead, Sawyer had a book of trucks and planes open.  "Point to the red fire truck," he said, and Lincoln pointed to the fire truck.  "Where's the trash truck, Lincoln?"  And Lincoln pointed.

AWWWW.

Of course there was then this:  "Where's the space station?  No, Lincoln, the space station.  The SPACE STATION.  SPACE.  STATION!"  Still, even the yelling was kind of cute.

They have also started really playing together, but the play is dangerous, rough boy play.  Today I made an executive (and perhaps insane?) decision to NOT watch them play as I cooked dinner. I'll tell you why--I didn't want to be nervous and make them stop what they were doing.  I heard laughter while cutting bread and checked to see what they were up to.  Sawyer was taking running leaps onto Lincoln on the couch.  I mean, like flying full speed into him.  Lincoln was laughing like mad.

It looked fun.  It looked cute.  It looked like someone was about to bust open a head.

I did warn Sawyer to take it easy, but then I retreated back around to the kitchen where I could hear but not see.  It was typical boy play, and nothing insanely dangerous--just maybe slightly.  I figured if I watched for much longer, I would be tormented by all the what-ifs that could happen:  what if their faces collide?  What if someone falls off the couch and breaks an arm? Hits the not-so-far-away fireplace?  Takes a Tinker Toy to the eye?  Instead, I could just listen to the laughter from the kitchen and pretend they were gently tickling each other from the safety of our thick rug.

No one lost an eye, though Lincoln was totally red and looked a little rug-burned by dinner time.  But they played!  Like friends!  Not just brothers.

I love seeing this new trend.  I'm sure along the way, someone will get stitches.  There's that fine balance between safety and boy play.  I'm not sure which side of the balance I'm more likely to err on...but maybe it's boy play, not safety.  I am, after all, the one who skates in a full contact sport.  Whatever form their bonding takes--and I'll even accept mischief, though not disobedience--I will embrace and enjoy every minute of it.