Lonely Pipsqueak

The squeaker is often grouchy when he comes home from school. The pipsqueak is usually happily absorbed in a game when big brother comes barging in. Sometimes, the boys settle down and play nicely; the pipsqueak is so glad to see his big brother after a long, lonely day. Other times, the boys try to play together, but they bicker about everything and the game falls apart. Then both boys end up crying and shouting.

But the worst are those days when the squeaker just wants to be left alone. The eager pipsqueak will beg him to play, but the squeaker stalks off saying that he doesn't want to play and to leave him alone. The pipsqueak will follow him tearfully, wringing his little hands and suggesting lots of things they could play. And the squeaker, desperate for a little peace after a long day of school, will push him away and shut the door in his face if he tries to follow. It makes me sad.

Yesterday, the boys were both upstairs, and I could see one of those "worst days" unfolding. The squeaker told the pipsqueak to go away, and the pipsqueak cried and said it was his room too, and I had to lure the pipsqueak downstairs with some chocolate to give the squeaker a little space. But once the pipsqueak had finished his chocolate, he was very sad and begged to go back upstairs. I wouldn't let him; through the baby monitor, I could hear the squeaker jumping about, probably whacking his bed with his sword, and talking loudly to himself about how he needed some time alone.

The pipsqueak could hear him too, of course. So he went over to the desk where I keep the baby monitor speaker, climbed up on the chair, and leaned over to shout directly into the speaker: "Brother, I love you! I love you! I'm downstairs! But I love you!"

As a big sister, I can relate to the squeaker's need for space. But the pipsqueak's lonely cries broke my heart.