My children are 21 months apart in age. For the first 6 months, I
thought that age difference would kill me. But ever since then, I’ve been
certain that it is the perfect sibling age span. They’re close enough in age that
they share common interests, yet they’re far enough apart to avoid overlap in
school, sports teams, and most hobbies. My daughter wants to do what my son
does, but she’s old enough to be a flattering groupie rather than an annoying
tag-along. Of course, he doesn’t appreciate when she tries to steal his toys,
but he likes to show her how they work. He likes to play the big brother role,
to teach her to do things he’s barely learned himself, to remind her of how "long
ago" he learned to do what she’s just learning now. It’s a beautiful friendship,
my delicate little girl looking up to her big, solid brother, much adoration
flowing in both directions.
Just last summer, my son graduated from a tricycle to a
bicycle with training wheels, and my daughter inherited the tricycle she’d been
gazing at longingly all season. So this spring, she is beyond delighted to jump
right on the tricycle while her big brother zooms around her on his big boy
bike. He shouts encouragement to her, and she looks enviously but adoringly at
his mad cycling skillz. While I just sit back, admiring these amazing two human
beings that I worked so hard to teach to love each other. And they do. They
are, indeed, good together.
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