There is nothing so important on a warm Monday in November that it can't wait until Tuesday. It's worth eating scrambled eggs for dinner and forsaking lofty laundry goals. A clean house is no match for watching two boys behave exactly like brothers-- brothers who happen to look almost nothing alike except for their streaky blond hair.
Arlo seems to be growing up twice as fast as Sena and Gus. The influence of older kids has driven him to do things that took the older two much longer to attempt. He spends more time out of my field of vision, off with the big kids, following their lead. He desperately wants to keep up, and for a tottering not yet two year old, he does pretty well.
When Gus bangs his hammer, Arlo grabs a branch and imitates. When Gus goes scurrying over fallen trees, Arlo is close behind.
It has been many generations since my very predominantly female family has had a set of brothers in the mix; it's not a dynamic I grew up with. My only brother was lost in a sea of sisters. Rough housing was not a part of my childhood. Watching these two little boys attack the world together, all bulldozers and dirty knees, is an all together new experience for me, one I am happy to devote my energy to while a half dozen projects remain half done.