I capitalized the 'S' in Starwars for you, Si

Back in the days when Alison was two and disgusted by her new baby brother, who drooled and spit up and pooped all over himself on a regular basis, I dreamed about a day when they would be each others' best friends. To me, having more than one child was a way to give Alison a companion for the rest of her life. Someone who would know her history, who would be able to relate to her in a way no one else really could, since they would be raised by the same crazy parents. I also thought about how much more fun it would make our family. I mean, having Alison was pretty awesome. She made everything more entertaining--from eating dinner at night to going to the zoo to grocery shopping. How could having a second child do anything but up the fun factor? Also, my hormones were screaming at me to have another baby. A tiny, helpless infant who would rely on my for everything. EVERYTHING.

So, Oliver came along, and oh, boy, he did rely on me for everything. He also reminded me that having an infant who relies on you for everything is exhausting. Exhausting in a wonderful way, but exhausting just the same. What's more, Alison really wanted nothing to do with him. It's not that she didn't like him, it's just, well, our pediatrician put it best: She was only 2. To her, he was like a toy that was broken. He didn't really do anything. Just laid around, and sometimes cried. Which is loud and annoying.

Now it's three years later, and that little blob of an infant and that little 2 year old girl have grown into two of the greatest kids in the world. Although, I may be a bit biased, but I don't think so. They have also grown closer to each other. Especially recently. Since they share a room, we made the big bedroom downstairs a playroom. I was very excited to get all of the brightly colored plastic crap out of the living room and confined to one space. However, the kids would take the brightly colored plastic crap out of the playroom, drag it into the living room, kitchen, hallway--really, whatever public space would be most inconvenient, and play with it there. This annoyed me to no end. Why have a playroom when you're stepping on weeble wobbles, kicking balls, and tripping over stuffed animals on your way to the bathroom anyway?

This has finally shifted. Now after breakfast, Oliver almost always heads straight to the playroom, where I can here him happily acting out scenarios with his cars, animals, Starwars guys, whatever. After we get Ali home from school they both head in there, most of the time to play a game together. Two weekends ago Ali had Friday and Monday off. For 4 days those kids played together almost constantly. It was one of the greatest weekends of my life. I'm not saying they never fought, they are brother and sister after all, and if they didn't ever fight I'd probably start to panic and wonder what is wrong with them. But they did act like the brother and sister I hoped they would be a few years ago when I knew I was going to make Alison a big sister. At one point they asked to go outside and told me I should stay in the house. Because I wasn't born yesterday I followed them outside to keep the damage to a minimum ( I ended up basically being a snow ball making machine).

In a couple of months we're heading to Florida to hang out at the beach and take in a Twins spring training game, and all Si and I talk about is how much fun we're going to have. Having the two of them is like bringing a play buddy for each kid! A play buddy who isn't going to go home and tell their mom how crazy the McAghons are and how the mother always laughs when someone toots. Every time. Much like a 6 year old boy might.