"OH!" they say. "You have your hands full."
They're right. I do. We have two noses to wipe and two butts, too, despite The Boy using the toilet. We have a 3-year-old talking, talking, talking and asking why, why, why?! while the The Lad toddles around demanding to be read to and figuring out what happens when you run on less than steady legs. We have work and dinners to be made and groceries to buy and chubby little limbs to be washed. We are busy.
But honestly, it's not that bad. The boys play together. If there's anything cuter than two brothers running around the house, playing peekaboo and having a contest to see whose RAWR! is scarier, I don't know what it is. I'm not sure I'd want to see it. My heart might clench up and die from the preciousness. Right now, they're playing cars in The Boy's room. They've been in there with little to no supervision for 30 minutes. The Lad just came out so I could wipe his nose, then strolled back to his brother.
The Lad worships The Boy. The Boy thinks The Lad is hilarious. The Lad performs at dinner to make The Boy laugh. I'm not saying this is the best baby-spacing, but I'm saying I'm glad my kids are close in age. I'm glad neither will remember life without the other.
My sister's boys are 15 months apart. She gets even bigger eyes than me when she tells people her kids' ages. And it's true, my nephews can be a handful. But they also are buddies, best friends. Sometimes, that means partners in crime; it also means they look out for each other.
The husband left early this morning, so it was just me and the boys when I needed to take my shower. I told The Boy what I was doing and to come and tell me if The Lad did anything that might hurt himself or anyone else.
"Yep," The Boy said before I even finished explaining. "I'll watch out for Lad. I'll watch him."
And he did.