The Brothers Cooley

Cass crashes into the living room to passionately rescue a toy from the tiny, tight-fisted grip of his little brother. Shrieking ensues. Prior to this very instant, said toy—banished to the underworld of long-forgotten toys—has not been gazed upon by child’s eyes in months. Nevermind played with. Minutes later, wobbly Ollie, who refuses to loosen his grip on the side of a piece of furniture for all the coaxing in the world, miraculously lunges toward a waist-high tower of multicolored legos with a vengeance that seems both calculated and impulsive. Enter a cacophony of wills.

Yet, in between the fits of snatching, shrieking, smacking, instigating, pushing, pinching, bulldozing, boxing-out, bullying and hair-pulling, there are moments of quiet connection and brother bonding sweeter than I could have ever imagined.

Everyone says it: the best part of being a parent to more than one child is bearing witness to their interaction. To see the tenderness take root. To watch them learn how to make each other belly laugh. To watch them fall in love.