There’s a 22-month age difference between The Complicated One and The Big Fella. That’s not much in the great scheme of things.
The grand idea was that they’d be great mates and spend endless hours playing together. The grim reality is that they are arch enemies.
Perhaps that’s overstating it. Not the Holmes-Moriarty kind of arch enemies. But they certainly get on each other’s nerves.
Of course it’s mainly the younger one who annoys the older one, wanting to join in every activity regardless of his interest in it, or ability to undertake it.
Plus he’s a bull-at-a-gate, so it’s a bad combination of stubbornly wanting to join in, which combined with poor coordination ensures just about everything gets mucked up.
The Complicated One is as fastidious and neat as The Big Fella is rambunctious and messy.
And yet there are lovely moments when they play together peacefully. Moments that make it all worthwhile.
Encouragingly, they are playing together better, and more often - probably twice as much as six months ago (admittedly from a low base!).
The Big Fella is better coordinated and can join in more games. And he's old enough now to understand imaginary games but still young enough to be directed by The Complicated One.
I hope the upward curve continues!
How my eldest son has a special friend. Seeing the two of them playing so intimately together is a joy.
Not so loving…
Remembering how I had a special friend at about the same age and how sad I was when we moved 887.2 kilometres away (but who’s counting). I think of this every time my partner and I talk about needing a bigger home. Is a childhood friend a good enough reason to renovate rather than move house?