I study his face and see a mini-me, a mini-uncle, a mini-grandfather. It’s a wonder to behold. His eyes, mouth and freckles so clearly display his genealogy. He could be mistaken for no one other clan than ours. I watch him try on different personalities – the jock, the musician. And all I see is a good kid with a kind heart.

I cannot see my younger boy in this moment. He is up the driveway outside of my window view. I can hear him though. He is larger than life. He demands his brother’s attention. Each time he misses the ball he commands that his brother help get it. He loves his brother rewarding him with a **whack** each time he runs past to help retrieve the ball.

I remember loving my brother like that. Unable to avoid the many opportunities to **whack** him when he wasn’t looking. It was worth it if only for the moment when he’d turn in response and I held his complete attention. It’s true that ruptures of laughter were short lived and gave way instead to cries of pain. But no one else could be closer to me. He was my brother and as much as his friends loved him and girls swooned for him only I knew how to capture his complete and total energy and attention.

I see that in my boys. They will be closer to each other than anyone. They will entertain each other, hurt each other, console each other, laugh at and with each other. At least this is my prayer. And I will try to moderate that relationship such that the younger one avoids crossing any lines he might regret. One too many **whacks** is hard to take back.

My five year old has fully embraced the joy of making-up after a fight. While I once worried that he enjoyed too much the fight itself, I’m convinced that really isn’t true. I’m certain because I too stood tall in size six shoes against older siblings and cousins and faced the horror of a small squabble escalating into a huge fight within minutes if not seconds. Generally this stemmed from a giant miscalculation in the patience (theirs) to humor (mine) ratio or just a misunderstanding of intentions.

Today’s trouble for this little guy occurred while in the care of his grandparents. A day also shared in the company of his older brother and two older cousins the last week before the start of school. My office phone rang mid-morning. It was Grandpa asking that I speak with both boys since they were not getting along. Apparently, everyone had been sent to separate rooms for a Time Out. The first voice on the other line was the older brother calmly explaining what events seemed to have transpired. The second voice was the younger, sobbing. Not really sobbing but that dramatic chest heaving, speech chopping, Academy Award winning performance young ones believe is the only way an adult will REALLY hear – will REALLY take them seriously after being horribly wronged.

“LilGEE? . . . LilGEE? Are you okay?”
[loud sobs, mumbled speech, heavy breathing]
“LilGEE?! . . . ”
This back and forth overlap went on for a few minutes until finally he admits, “Um . . I didn’t hear you.”
“Uh, yeah. . . ”

In the calm of the moment, we agree that he’ll try to be nice but he’s already convinced that he doesn’t know how. Poor guy. Clearly no one in the house believes he can either.

So when I arrive home at the end of the day, I want to immediately get the full story. It begins, however, with,

“How are you?”
“Fine.”
“What happened today between you and your cousins and brother?”
“I don’t know how to behave.” And my heart breaks.
“Yes, you do, honey!”

And I launch into what I hope is a message of reassurance that he certainly IS capable of making choices that include being nice, walking away, taking turns etc. In the end, he agrees and if there’s an apology to be made, he’ll do it. Then I finally get his version of what happened.

“I was trying to find out what their plan was.”
“Huh?”
“They were in the other room planning to spy on me and I was trying to find out how.”

So as I understand it, there was a team of three older spies planning an “attack” against the single youngest spy and he was doing what spies do, intercept their intell.

Carefully choosing my rationale, I announce that although I’m sure his cousins thought he was cheating, which we all know isn’t very nice at all when playing a game, I was not going to make him apologize for trying to find out their plan. Especially, if their game was SPIES.

In the end, he stands by his agreement to apologize since we already talked about it and he thinks he should.

With a smile on his face, he accepts the phone with his elder cousin waiting on the other end (such a big boy moment). He offers, “I’d like to tell you what I’ve been up to.” His apology is direct and includes the explanation that he was just trying to figure out what their plan was. He then adds, “And I’d like to add one thing. I’d like you to be nice to me as I will be nice to you and am ready to be friends again.” She accepts and apparently offers her own apology. He’s beaming and asks to speak to the other cousin.

The second exchange is exactly the same and when it’s over he’s ready to relinquish the phone. He stands what seems to be an inch or two taller in his little frame. He’d been given a new lease on their friendship and lived up to his word.

I admire that he not only offered an apology but asked for what he needed in return. He took care of them and took care of himself. I believe he genuinely grieved the hurt he somehow caused; whatever the miscalculation made. And I pray that he always keeps that desire to stick with the situation and see it through to a happier ending.