parental jealousy

sometimes i’m jealous of my children. yep. i’ll admit it. sometimes i’m jealous that they have a built-in playmate. a built-in friend. someone close in age who understands them better than their parents. i loved being an *almost* only child when i was growing up, but it sure was lonely. (my brother is 9 years older than i).


i apologize for the poor lighting and composition of this photo, but it was the only one i could capture before they realized i was there:



(those two tiny specks far ahead on the trail are davey and sam, riding their bikes side-by-side in this “forest.” their conversation was so amusing to overhear… i wish i had it recorded!)


who needs a play house? we’ll make our own… with a box. that’s all. no paper. no markers. just a box and a great imagination….



i LOVE that my kids truly LOVE each other. they fight. they argue. they hit. they pull hair. they take toys. but ultimately, they love each other so deeply and so passionately that it makes my bones tingle with pride. it’s not uncommon for one of the “twins” to awake from a nap, wander downstairs and ask “where’s –” [insert "Davey" or "Samantha" here]. davey and sam both ADORE alex and she has eyes only for them when they’re around. i am jealous of their secrets. their friendship. their bond. but i am also so very, VERY thankful for those things.

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