Day 21

My two boys are in the thick of some good old-fashioned sibling rivalry, and given the fact that this tension is emerging now, at age 12 and age 8, one could say that it's about time. There's a 4 1/2 year spread between them, which could have something to do with the delay, but now their different stages of life seem to be the source of their disagreements. I can relate to their situation. I'm a middle child, between an older brother by five years and a younger sister by seven; this divide between us both kept the peace and fed the fire depending on what was going on at the time. Adolescence was a Duraflame log--as long as one of us was navigating its rocky road, a sibling was an easy target for displaced venom. That's not to say that my seventh grader and his emerging hormones are completely to blame; my second grader watches with satisfaction out of the corner of his eyes when he's able to evoke any type of reaction from his brother, a smug smile growing over his averted face.

As often as I spot an arm on the other's shoulder in support, they come out on opposite sides of the coin. Their interests have mirrored one another, from Legos to books to favorite sports, but there hasn't been a Superbowl yet where they've rooted for the same team. Now, as we wait for baby #3, one desperately wants another boy and the other wants a girl. The other night at my birthday dinner, the two sat side-by-side across from us, and we watched them go from laughing at each others' jokes to practically wrestling their way onto the floor. Such is life with boys?

Tuck returned from a school trip to the Chesapeake Bay this afternoon, and you'd think that with three days apart the boys would have some patience stored up. Some driveway lacrosse practice was at first a sight full of brotherly love. Will looked up to his brother with appreciation as he stepped in for the drill. Will offered Tuck the better stick. Tuck coached with kindness on how to better hit a target. I walked away with confidence in this nice moment. I could hear just an undertone of their conversation and the thump of the ball on the garage door from the kitchen as I cleaned up after lunch. Minutes later, I detected an edge to their voices. Thumps became faster and took on a tinnier quality. And then a loud, "Aaargh." The porch door slammed, but only one brother stormed past me at the kitchen sink.

"What happened?" I asked the little one.

"Nothing. I told him the rules, and he said, 'That's stupid.'"

"Whose rules?"

"Mine."

I've intervened enough lately in an attempt to resolve their conflicts, so I decided to let this one lie, and since the outburst, they've just kept their distance. Hours later, though, the two of them sat at dinner, united by a common interest in building a zip line from our backyard tree house to the soccer field over the fence. These days, it's better to hold on for a little while--they're sure to come together again.