A friend recently told me they’re thinking of having Baby #2. My immediate reaction: awwwwww! In spite of having some really difficult nights—which involve hours and hours of trying to get the girls to sleep—and breaking up fights over the most ridiculous things—like wanting to sit on these six square inches of couch despite having a whole sectional with plenty of room—I’m happy for my friend because of the love of sisters.
Just the other night, I was reading the girls a book. I noticed their arms reach out for each other. They hugged the whole time I read, and I pretended not to notice for fear of disrupting their special sister moment.
My heart nearly burst, though, when I heard Kiwi: “Aw, big sister,” she crooned. Maybe, just maybe, these two are on their way to becoming best friends.
Moments like these are made even more precious by the contrast of their battles. Just last week I stepped in a half-second before Kiwi swung a wooden push toy at Peeper’s head. And not long ago Eric texted me a picture of Peeper pinning Kiwi in what I swear was a WWF move on the kitchen floor. These two sisters are fierce.
And just the other night, I came home from work and Eric told me how great the girls had played together all day. No sooner than he finished the sentence, Kiwi walked up to Peeper and—totally unprovoked—chucked a hard toy at Big Sister’s head.
I honestly don’t know how they manage to find conflict over nothing. Lately, Kiwi draws a picture and then insists on hanging it high where “no sister reach it.” This infuriates Peeper, even though Kiwi learned it from her. And Kiwi sometimes wails when Peeper sings her made-up songs—”Too loud!” she shouts at the top of her lungs, the irony totally lost on her—even when Peeper sings under her breath.
Love of sisters
Despite their fights, the love of sisters wins. When Kiwi comes with us to pick up Big Sister from school, the two run into each other’s arms, and Peeper picks up Little Sister. She carries Kiwi around, showing her off to her preschooler friends.
When Peeper recently went to the doctor, she made sure to ask for an extra lollypop she could bring home to Little Sister.
And we sometimes have to step in because their hugs are so intense: I wouldn’t want an enthusiastic embrace to accidentally choke a child or dislocate a shoulder.
My own sisters
I can identify with all of this. Although my older sister, about 5 years my senior, and I almost never fought, my younger sister—2 1/2 years apart—and I butted heads more often.
We argued over who borrowed whose jacket, who wore too much perfume, who was taking too long in the shower or on the phone.
But we ended up close: Both my sisters and I talk at least weekly, and we struggle living in three different states.
So even though it drives me crazy that Peeper and Kiwi fight like hangry cats, I know it’s a perfectly normal part of sisterhood. I know from firsthand experience that, with a little luck, these sisters will grow up to be best friends.