Yesterday, my YO was in a very chirpy, happy mood. He was full of hugs and squeals and laughter and love and dance. He kept us entertained with his antics and had us, my EO, their ayah and me, in splits; with his funny faces and hilarious dance poses to a music that seemed to be playing only in his head.
At some point, the EO, all ready for his karate class in white karate uniform and orange belt, lay down on the floor and went drifting off to his own world. His eyes and thoughts were far, far away.
Suddenly, the YO sat down on top of him, tickled him, made a funny face at him and then just lay down on top of him to envelop his big brother in the biggest, tightest hug that his thin, tiny frame was capable of giving.
As if that heart-meltingly beautiful sight wasn't enough to get me all misty-eyed, my EO had to turn to me and gently, sweetly, sincerely say, "Mom, thank you for this little brother."
I didn't have trouble saying "You're welcome, my sweetheart." I had trouble hiding my tears.
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