Our youngest child, the baby of the family, has a hero that he looks up to. It's not me or Chandler; not a superhero, a teacher, or an action star. No, Spike's hero is his older brother, Angel. He adores him, and I find that to be adorable.
The other day I was picking the kids up for the weekend and as I sat there waiting, Spike saw me, ran up and I brought my arms out for that hug that he always gives me... I didn't get it. What I got was a question. "Where's Angel?" I pointed to his brother, he saw him and then he hugged me.
That night we were all watching a movie and he fell asleep early. I carried him to bed (and let me tell you, that isn't getting any easier as he gets older), and after the movie the rest of the kids followed. Angel was sharing the double bed with Spike that night. I stayed up late to do my usual writing and chatting with my online friends and a few hours later I heard Spike get up and use the bathroom. Then he came from down the hall, looked around the living room and asked: "Where's Angel?" He didn't believe me when I told him he had to crawl over him to get out of bed. He stumbled back into the bedroom and I heard him say. "Oh yeah, there he is."
It makes me happy that Spike has a big brother who he adores, and a brother who loves him as well. They may squabble, but Angel loves his little brother, he watches over him. I'm happy for both of them.
It's something I never had and grew up wishing I did. A little brother to watch over, or even a big brother who I could have looked up to; who would have watched over me. Though looking back on it now, I'm glad it turned out this way. I'm old enough to appreciate it as it evolves.