At some point in the past year, my second born son has become a big brother.
Actually, my wee-proportioned 8-year-old has been a big brother for every bit of the past five years, but he’s now taken on the role with zeal, proclaiming his maturity and knowledge on a regular basis in efforts to influence his 5-year-old brother.
And we know when he’s asserting that influence by the tone of his voice.
His speech, laden with a few mispronounced letter sounds, is quite stern and serious.
And often sounds like this:
“No, Awex, there is NO dancing at school.”
Or,
“Awex, make sure you don’t get your name in purple cause dat’s when they call your parents.”
Or,
“Awex, if you do that, it will make you DIE.”
And Alex listens to his big brother, for the most part.
He nods his head, wide-eyed and in complete awe of all the knowledge his super smart big brother possesses.
But just a year ago, it was Lucas who was getting his name on the naughty list. It was Lucas who was getting in trouble at school for misbehaving in the rest room. And it was Lucas who was putting himself in harm’s way on a regular basis.
He’s growing up. Maturity is written in big bold letters all over his face when he delivers his words of wisdom.
He’s a great big brother, full of wisdom and empathy.
He plays with his little brothers, showing them the attention they crave, and they look up to him.
Just the other day, Lucas was making Alex a present. It was a stick he found at the football field, but with his imagination, it was so much more than that. And when he gave that ordinary stick to Alex and told him he made it for him, Alex beamed and said, “Lucas, I wuv you more than anything.”
Lucas smiled and said, “Did you hear that mom? Awex said he wuvs me more than anything.”
And in that instant, my heart exploded.
But, this time, it was me who was in awe of them.
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