Hanging clean laundry, enjoying the unending task of imparting order to chaos,
 a mother abruptly raises her head, cocked to listen --- what is that?
Oh, no - it's another Suspicious Silence.
Wearily frantic, she slides around corners on the way to finding her youngest. 
And there he is, using the time-out chair as an ascent tool
From that perch, her baby can more easily misuse his older brother's cassette tape player. 
Her firstborn stands by in stunned disbelief adopting a posture that 
only a first-born can command at will.
"Look at him, Mom-n!"
She's not sure why he calls her that; 
maybe it's his own separated version of MomAndDad?
"I told him not to do that, over and over, but he wouldn't listen! 
I think he should get a punishment, Mom-n, don't you?!"
The mother approaches her almost two-year-old, giving an acknowledging nod to her older son along the way - it's all he needs to feel justified in his indignation and free him to move on to the greater demands of raising Duplo towers. She'll have time to deal with his self-righteous attitude after she removes the diaper-wearing bandit from his roost. 
His posture is a portrait of repentance, the I'll Never Do It Again 
sort that she's wise to by now. 
As her hands close around his tiny ribcage, he twists and bends into her, sniffling contrition into her chest. She says his name and tilts his chin upward, seeking his eyes with her own. Great green eyes swim with tears as she provides the needed correction and assists in his delivery of a toddler's semi-remorseful apology. His eyes seek hers again, checking for forgiveness. She's bewildered at the emotional intuition of this son 
and fleetingly wonders toward the future.
His plume of untameable hair brushes her chin as, satisfied, he struggles to the floor from her lap. His eyes spark and he rushes off on miniature legs, probably  to begin the conjuring of another escapade in the life of his older brother.
And she heads off again to the closet, smiling to herself in guilty anticipation.

Linking with:
Miscellany Monday at Lowercase Letters

1 comment:

Mary Beth said...

That eery silences is always the first sign of trouble, isn't it!?