In a scramble to get out the door in time for Tucker's speech therapy, I abandoned the children and bolted up the stairs to grab my shoes.
I am learning that Tyler needs notice for such transitions. Much like his mom, greetings and farewells are something of a big deal, and he needs for them to be treated with respect and adequate time...even if I am only going up the stairs for a single minute.
While I looked for my shoes (which were not where I left them, because two little people enjoy trying them on and clomping around the house with giant feet), Tyler cried and cried on the other side of the gate at the bottom of the steps.
I heard Tucker say, in a very gentle voice, "Oh, Tozzer. C'mere. It's okay. It's okay, brother."
The tears subsided, and when I came down the steps, I saw Tucker sitting on the floor; Tyler was lying on the floor beside him with his head in his big brother's lap. Tucker was gently stroking his head. And nobody was crying.
Except that I almost did, out of sheer sentiment for this magical moment.
Tucker looked at me and said, "I helped him."
You sure did, kiddo. Way to go.
I just had to write about it... because I'm quite certain I will need to revisit this moment in my mind, perhaps even later today, when they are not nearly so enamored with each other.
It really happened. I promise.