It was a typical Saturday afternoon. All ten of us were squeezed inside an SUV on our way to the mall. Hannah was pinching Helene's arm. Helene tried to tell her older sister to stop but no avail. This went on for several hours. I mean minutes. It felt like hours.
Finally somebody said clearly and with conviction: "Both of you, please, don't fight anymore. You're sisters, for goodness' sake."
And if you're wondering, no, I didn't say this. Neither did my mom. I was too busy trying to keep the car from bumping into the car in front of us (which is another story). Mom was busy praying the rosary (kidding). These profound words of wisdom were actually uttered by my son, who is seven going on eighteen.
Miraculously, the fighting did stop. Everyone in the car was struck speechless. The kids by the absolute authority in their youngest cousin's voice. The adults by the sheer wisdom coming from somebody who hasn't memorized his multiplication table yet. What's more, I remember thinking, wow, this kid is darn polite.
Even at that young age, Ralph understood that blood is thicker than water. You don't get to choose your family the same way you pick out the car you want for your sixteenth birthday or what skirt to go with the outfit, but you are stuck with them for the rest of your life.
I remember several years back when my brother kicked somebody else's butt for teasing me and pulling my hair in school. His reasoning? He can tease me all he want, coz he's my older brother, but he'll be damned if some stranger does it to me. It is kind of twisted logic in a way, but sort of makes sense too, if you think about it.
I'm grateful that my 7-year old son has such an excellent grasp of the concept of family ties. Amidst his exasperating moments of alternating inattentiveness and chatterbox, at least I know that he will still visit me once a week in my retirement home forty years from now.
No comments:
Post a Comment