Brotherly Love

Sometimes all it takes is about five minutes of relative quiet in the shower, and I hear Puck yelling something to me through the closed door. This time it was:

“MOM!”

“What’s up, bud?”

“YALI MOONED ME! AND I MOONED HIM!”

“No. No mooning.”

I didn’t bother to ask how a two year-old wearing a diaper could possibly manage to commit such a crime, but sometimes it’s just best not to ask.

A little Smothers Brothers on the drive out that afternoon. They have recently become one of Puck’s favs. Meanwhile, Yali – woken from his nap by the Nae Nae – immediately began dancing as soon as his eyes opened. 1950’s folk songs to Georgian rap.

In the muggy heat of another mid-August afternoon, the boys found refuge in an orange kiddie pool set in the Silverspoon’s backyard with the garden hose. Once again, the eight year-old barely fit inside, but he clearly wasn’t bothered. It was enough just to share a cold splashy bath with his little brother on a hot day. All good and fun.

Dinner was served about an hour later: burgers off the grill and homemade guacamole. Relevance, Kitts, and Elvis Skyped from Austin. They were getting ready to pack up for Boston. Carrie had already warned them against succumbing to the Red Sox fanbase. We didn’t really expect any trouble.

Halfway through this long-distance conversation, Yali found half a lime sitting on the counter and gave it a try. Sticking his tongue out in disgust, he set the lime back on the counter. About thirty seconds later, he gave it another go. By the time he had finished watching his aunt, uncle, and cousin on the screen, he had found that maybe lime wasn’t so bad after all.