And so we’ve come full circle

When I was a kid my oldest brother, who’s 6-17 years older than the rest of us, used to take care of my younger siblings and me pretty often. This was generally a good thing, since Dillon’s commitment to adult supervision was slightly more lax than my mother’s. Famished from hours of unsupervised troublemaking, we would eventually make our way into his field of vision for the sole purpose of demanding food, at which point he would gladly serve up Dillon’s Dill Pickle and Egg Sandwich: fried egg, white bread, mayonnaise and sliced dill pickles. It was a masterpiece. Once eaten we would disappear again and revel in all the usual things kids do when lacking in adult supervision (discovering matches, permanent marker, self-serve haircuts…)

Last night Dillon’s twin sons turned 7, which got me worrying that they were leaving the cute days behind and entering the age of annoying kids who play with matches (this is at least partially true, since they greeted me with “where’s my present?” which is not any cuter the second time it’s asked). But they’re still adorable, and innocent, and completely ignorant of the realities of public transportation:

The twins at 6, Cameron and Connor

“Why didn’t you come to my party earlier aunt Emily?”
“Sorry bud, my bus in Montreal was late…”
“So did you take a airplane?”

Here I should note that I travelled 130 kilometers to visit them.

Being so close I get to visit my niece and nephews more often. Running after them is exhausting, so on my last visit my niece offered to make me something to eat.

“How about a fried egg and pickle sandwich?” she offered, and then proceeded to execute the thing perfectly, just like her father had done for me when I was her age. Delicious. Then we went off to play with matches while her dad wasn’t watching.

Big sister

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