Monkey-See

Alex has taught Cate how to pout. After nearly five years of only-child parenting, I realize there is a lot I didn't realize, and number one is just how much influence the first child has over the second. (No wonder my younger brother is a genius).

Alex uses the car as his classroom.

Cate hates riding in the car. HATES it. Even the four miles from Fly Creek to Cooperstown has started to fill me with dread. She whines. She is demanding. She wants water. She wants snacks. She wants what's just out of reach on the floor. She complains that she is "stuck" in her car seat. She says it over and over and over until even the radio, deep breathing, talking, singing, praying, eye-spying, and chanting can't help. Four miles seems like one hundred. And so, you can imagine our four hour trip to NJ to visit Steve's family last weekend. It was eternal. She didn't sleep. She kept her brother from sleeping. He tried along with the rest of us, with amazing maturity, to be patient. He said things like, "It's O.K. Cate. You just need to sit in that seat for awhile and finally we will be at Omi and Pop Pop's. It's O.K." More whining. Louder. What is it about whining that gets under your skin? And then my favorite Alex attempt... "Well, Cate. It's going to be awhile. This is a good time to practice my school friends. Say 'Nate,' Cate. Good. Say., 'An-na.' Good."

From his car seat, Alex has instructed Cate in the nuances and sounds of the English language. One day he covers animals. He says a word and tells her to repeat. And she does. The next day, it's holidays. Christmas. Valentine's Day. Halloween. The self-assured voice of the teacher and the incredible attempt of the English-as-a second language student. He has taught her a lot.

And that includes the ugly. Alex's signature display of displeasure while riding in the car is to glare and point. His arm goes straight out. His finger never waivers. His eyes bore holes into the back of my head. When I can remember to breathe and leave the annoyance of the moment, it is one of the more humorous things I have ever seen. He can hold that point and stare for miles. And now Cate does it too, typically to her brother.

It usually starts on a hot day. Alex puts his window down. Cate, with the fervor and disgust of a teenage girl, is immediately insulted when the wind ruffles her hair. Insulated and infuriated. For one who has only recently come to have enough hair to ruffle in the wind, this seems a bit surprising, but she hates it. And she lets Alex know by the angry point-and-glare.

"Mom!! She's pointing at me!" Well, gee, I wonder where she picked that up? thinks the mother.

"Cate. It is not polite to point at your brother. Put your finger down, please." Down it goes.

"Mom!!!! She's pointing at me again!"

And on it goes.

But yesterday, it reached a new level. I actually pulled over the car and took a box of raisins out of Cate's non-pointing hand. I told her again that we do not point at each other and that she could not have her raisins back until she put her finger down. She did. I handed the raisins back and started to drive.

"Mom!!! (a laugh) She looks like me!"

I glanced in the rear view mirror and saw Alex's defiant pursed lip pout on Cate's face. Her lips thrust out. A defiant look in her eye. Honestly - completely hilarious. Almost as funny as the fact that Alex looked at those pouty lips and recognized them as his own. Talk about deliberate.

Needless to say, that look has become the old standby of my two-year-old daughter. It has been thrown my way at least twenty times today... when I gave her water instead of juice... when I told her she couldn't play with her brother's magic kit... when I dragged her away from the chip-bag filled picnic table of a stranger by the lake... when I told her it was time for a nap. She gets angry, starts to whine, and then the wheels start to turn. The whining stops. Out goes the lip.

I am glad my pouty girl has her brother. I am glad he can teach her how to feel a little power. She probably hasn't had much before. I am glad that after a night apart from each other (he spent the night with his grandparents last night) he ran full force at her, threw his arms around her and told her she looked so pretty in her dress. I am glad he is teaching her what is is to be loved, what it is to be special, what it is to be missed. I am glad that when he is not here, she wanders around the house saying, "All-ay" wondering where he is.

They are a brother and a sister. They've had a steep learning curve, but they are teaching each other what it is to be a family.

Now... if I can keep them from ganging up on me...