Brotherly Symphonies
I was in the middle of typing out Yali’s medical sheet for our first post-adoption report this Friday when I heard him grunting sternly on the floor below me. I turned around after a few grunts to see what he was doing. He sat in the corner on the linoleum holding a small stuffed tiger in one arm, and pointing at the floor vent with the other.
“What are you doing, Yali?”
He stood up, ran over to Crackers’ water bowl, and pointed severely at it with a disapproving grunt, as if reprimanding the stuffed tiger. Then he ran back to the same corner, held the tiger down in both arms, and sat there as if he was waiting for time to pass. Then he held out a disapproving finger once again to the water bowl.
“Yali, what are you … oh…”
It occurred to me then that he was scolding the tiger. Yali had been in trouble for several days in a row that week for a variety of “no-no”s. These forbidden actions included putting toys down the air vents and dumping over Crackers’ water bowl. Whenever these acts of disobedience occurred, I sat him in my lap, holding his arms crossed over his chest so he would understand that he had done something that he was not supposed to do. Then I would point to the item in question that he had disturbed so he could make the connection. I guess the whole idea is catching on.
As if the conga drum wasn’t enough Tuesday afternoon, there was another – heavier – box waiting on the step again on Wednesday. This time, it was a big set of bongos for Little Guy Gumball, and a genuine African thumb harp for Big Guy Muscles. Both brothers composed songs together in the living room while I caught up with Mom on the phone about her first day volunteering on the school lunch line. I was probably in for many an exuberant concert in my near future.
After Yali’s dinner and bubble bath – and a fresh new set of jams purchased from Target that morning featuring a bright orange fox which made him look extra cute according to Puck – he whined for the bongos and the conga.
“Mañana,” I told him.
He cried dramatically in a way surely only inspired by watching South American soccer matches.