Helper

Recently, I read a column discussing whether or not it is a good idea to have your older children help out with the younger children--sort of sibling helpers, as it were. I was surprised that the idea was even under discussion. Of course older kids help with the younger ones. It's part and parcel of being a family.

I remember countless times when I was told, "Keryn, you are in charge of Samuel." (Or David, or Telima, or whatever.) On a family trip to Yellowstone, my parents paired us up: LaDale and Keryn, Jenafer and David, and Mema and Daddy took care of the two youngest. It was the easiest way to keep track of a young, large family.

My parents didn't take this principle to extremes--as teenagers, our activities (school, sports, extracurricular, jobs) came first. If we had an offer of a paying babysitting job, but my parents needed us to babysit at home, we would get paid. (That was the only time we'd get paid for babysitting siblings, though.) Simply put, though, we were expected to pitch in and help out.

All of that is an overly-long buildup to a sweet experience this afternoon.

Both Gee and Hebs wanted to sit on my lap, and they weren't interested in sharing the space. Hebs had just awakened from his nap, so he was cranky; Gee was tired from preschool, so he was cranky. Both began to sob and cry and wail at the tops of their lungs. Trying to comfort them got me nowhere. The volume was high and getting louder.

Exasperated, I asked if they both wanted to go to bed. "NOOOOOOOO!!!" came the chorus. My curt suggestion that they then stop crying only added fuel to the fire. I was contemplating how to get both of them downstairs to their bedroom--carry them both? Carry one and drag the other? Make multiple trips?

It was then that Em came to the rescue. "Who wants to have a calming-down party with me?" she asked, her voice full of excitement and enthusiasm. "Hebs, do you want to go downstairs and have a calming-down PARTY with me?"

His attention caught, Hebs stopped crying and nodded eagerly. She then turned to Gee. "Gee, do you want to come to our party, too?" He also stopped crying and agreed. She then led them downstairs, where they played with pillows and ran around giggling.

Now, you should know I have never suggested a calming-down party before, and usually I don't ask my older children to deal with their younger siblings' temper tantrum. (I figure that's part of my job description, not theirs.) But Em saw a need, thought of a way to fill it, and then did it cheerfully. Without being asked.

Through the baby monitor, I listened to them laughing. I heard Em say, "Isn't this fun? Aren't you feeling happy now?"

I sure am, sweet girlie.