The thing about having two kids is that I spend most of my day just gawking at them. How is it that God saw it fit to entrust me with these two little lives, these specific lives? Who am I to have the privilege of raising two men?
The craziest thing is that Brandon and I had sex one time and A HUMAN WAS CREATED. Then, another time we had sex, and ANOTHER HUMAN WAS CREATED. Think about that and try to tell me that God isn’t real.
I want to give them everything they ever want. And usually, I do. I want to say “yes, yes!” so that my “no” actually means something.
Sometimes I look at the 4,000 toys strewn across our living room floor and I like the mess. I let it linger, for days even, and I wish others could see it, the evidence of life being lived.
Other times, I catch Elliot reading books to Oscar and I’m glad that no one else can see what I see in that moment because I get to scoop it up and add it to all the other little things that I hide in my heart.
I wonder how they’ll be different, how they’ll be alike. I wonder if they’ll have that typical older-brother-younger-brother relationship that you see in the movies. I wonder if they’ll grow up and apart like so many brothers do.
I hope Elliot teaches Oscar. I hope Oscar looks out for Elliot. I hope they have the kind of closeness shared not by blood but by choice.
I will always choose them.