Thanos needs a hug, not a twin.

The strange, the beautiful.

The same boy, ten years previous. Still drawing, still bringing his own style to every day of existence.

They walk outside, and I chase them, as always, and take a picture of them, as always, and they get in the automobile, as they do at least once a week, and I am…not with them. It is them, two of them, seventeen and fourteen, together, and it is as it should be, but it is still a transitioning period of life for more than one of us. They drive off for the day, together, I wonder, as I always do, what they will speak of, and if they will forgo NPR for Billie Eilish and Eminem, and my heart is with them but the rest of me is not. It is as it should be, and as long as they come back, intact and safe, I am okay.

Insistence : prologue to the above.

He walks out to the car in sweatpants and a t-shirt, blond hair tied back, backpack slung over one shoulder, rain pouring down, pausing to triple-check whether he’s forgetting anything. I recall that that may have happened once, or possibly more frequently. He does not have a coat or jacket or sweatshirt; that is not something he is forgetting. He simply does not want to wear one. I insist that he at least have one in the vehicle. I am 48, he is 14, I continue to insist on some things. For a little while longer in our shared existence, at least. He may walk into school bare-armed. But he will have something warm in the car should he need.

The fundamentals of human interaction.

Sometimes there is a wide chasm between being polite and being respectful. Sometimes there’s not. The latter, should there ever be a conflict between the two, is far more important to me. For example, I will not demand that our children hug people simply to be polite or assuage feelings. I will respect their bodily autonomy and expect other people to respect their choices in that regard. However, I will also expect them to politely offer an alternative, such as shaking a hand, delivering a fist bump, or at the very least, acknowledging with a smile, wave, and verbal greeting.

One of the things we’ve been working on with certain younger figures in our family is simply saying “Excuse me” when you step in front of somebody. Considering the frequency with which they dart, dance, run, skip, and cartwheel around public spaces sometimes, it can be challenging - and…I love the joy to be found in transporting oneself with verve and enthusiasm. At the same time, as with much in life, there is a balance. In this case, the balance to be situationally aware of others while also…moving through physical space with excitement. Sometimes that balance is tipped and you cut somebody off inadvertently. In those cases, a simple “excuse me” or “I’m sorry!” is a fundamental default. We can expect that.

It’s an ongoing process. So…it brought a not-invisible smile when I watched our 7-year old walk down a school hallway earlier, bringing all the earnest attention and focus he could, in murmuring “excuse me” as he passed each person; many of these people in no way converging with his path, but yet him defaulting to expressing this acknowledgment. Again, a balance. I don’t want him to go around thinking he needs to constantly apologize, but I do want him going around being aware of how to politely and respectfully engage with others, and to offer a brief apology - or perhaps note of deference or simply acknowledgment - when necessary.

It’s a balance. I’m still working on it too.

Communications.

I continued negotiations with a company over gutter installation. I held out and held out and the number went the right direction. Still not a fun figure. But better than where it started.

Random & miscellaneous.

A 7yo and 5yo building LEGO creations by the pound, by the minute. We need a warehouse.

The story of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego and a big fire. Which reminds me: I have so many brush piles to deal with.

Reading The Phantom Tollbooth. On chapter 4. What a treat.

Other schooling.

Typing: working on the top row keys. He is supported, as always, by his 5yo supporter, sharing a desk chair with him.

Maths: polygons.

Theater rehearsal, dress style.

What’s next, you wanna practice Latin?

Can I practice cursive? he asked.

Yes, I said, and pulled out the alphabet sheet his grandma sent him in her elegant script.

Maslow : What is enough?

On another note of pride - I admit it - we found ourselves at Goodwill; a happening which has been happening with regularity recently, and the boys were examining Marvel action figures. Becca has a spreadsheet in her head of which ones they have and which ones they need. Or “need.” I do not. I found a couple that seemed in good condition and worthy of placement in our home. I believe they were Ant-Man and Thanos. They took a careful look at each and then informed me: We actually have those ones already. We don’t need more.

Are you sure? I asked. You could have twins?

Nah, we’re okay, they said, and we left empty-handed, but my heart was not empty.

Those we admire.

He watches casually as his older brother does various jumping and leaping feats toward the basketball hoop during a Theater rehearsal break. He looks around, checking to see if the right amount of audience exists, and then hurls his 7-year old body into motion, emulating his twice-older sibling with a not-contained grin. The grin gets bigger when some teens note his leaping prowess and comment on it.

All those little words matter.

10

Okay, I said. Who wants to watch a documentary on wildlife in Norwegian forests this evening?

YEEEESSSS! was the twin response, as they pulled out their drawing pads and art paraphernalia and prepared to watch, take notes, and illustrate their renditions of Scandinavian flora and fauna.

Actually, inquired our 14-year old, can we watch Les Miserables? We haven’t seen that in a while. I feel like watching it tonight.

We didn’t on this night. But we will soon. I love that.

11

The night closed with Becca surrounded by two teens, all snuggled up on the couch, all falling asleep.

When I say “closed,” what I mean is that it closed for those three. On the floor, flanking me, were two other figures, furiously drawing and exchanging exclamations such as: “I have to draw this, can you pause it real quick?” (see: Norwegian forest documentaries, a.k.a. Wild Nordic, episode 2 on National Geographic).