‘There’s less all out brawls, screaming and crying!’
Lockdown brings out the best in brothers
It’s 12:30 a.m. and my 10-year-old son has just wandered in to say good night.
“Hey Dad, what’s going on?” he asks, marching into my home office as if it’s three in the afternoon.
“Wait a minute,” I respond. “Didn’t I put you to bed FOUR HOURS AGO?”
“I couldn’t sleep. Hey, what’re you up to?”
“What am I up to? Get back to bed, that’s what I’m up to.”
This, as my head spins like Linda Blair in “The Exorcist,” is our new reality since school let out for March break 10 weeks ago and forgot to start up again.
Ah, yes, March, back when we thought COVID-19 was just another crazy fad, like college kids swallowing goldfish and kooky phrases like “Boomer Remover” were trending on Twitter.
But here we are at the onset of summer, still home isolating, in a hazy state of disbelief, trying to navigate a world that — in ways large and small — has psychologically imploded.
Forget school — other than computerized distance learning, it’s done until September. Day camps are still a question mark, if highly unlikely. And as stubbornly consistent COVID numbers make clear, any fraternization with people outside our self-isolating bubbles can lead to big trouble on the pandemic front.
And yet, despite a survey that reports 60 per cent of Ontario parents have witnessed increased outbursts, irritability and sadness in their kids, a heartening flip side has emerged.
“Things are going better than I thought they would,” insists Justin Faulkner, a Waterloo father of four kids under 12 who, against all odds, have tightened their sibling bond. “There’s less all out brawls, screaming and crying. They’ve been doing more things together.”
They’ve all been sleeping in the same room, he notes, despite having other options.
And as home isolation drags on, they’ve been sitting side by side on the couch to read and pairing up for activities like scootering and Lego that would rarely have happened before. It’s not a fluke.
“The ‘littles’ have become better playmates in general,” agrees Kitchener’s Melissa Aguto, a single parent amazed to find her three and almost seven-year-old forging a similar bond.
“Previous to this it was more parallel play or my daughter taking the lead. Now, there’s more collaboration and turn taking.”
Funny story: When Alicia told me we were going to have a second kid in the summer of 2009 — as we grappled with explosive diarrhea and screaming colic in our then one-year-old — my reaction was to aggressively try to talk her out of it.
“What, is this a joke? Call the local adoption agency!”
In retrospect, having two kids 19 months apart was the best nondecision I ever made.
Never mind the drain on our bank account or Sam’s habit of yelling “COVID-19!” if I talk to anyone from a distance of less than two metres.
What the heck would Max be doing for 10 weeks in lockdown without him?
“MAX!” his besotted underling screamed the other day, in tears because his proposal to build a backyard obstacle course had been summarily rejected. “I WANT YOU TO PLAY WITH ME!!”
He’s standing in the back door, howling in anguish, and all I can think of is Marlon Brando outside a rundown tenement in “A Streetcar Named Desire”: “STELLAAA!!”
Max, who has autism and the ability to filter out brash emotional manipulation, stares impassively as I think to myself, “Sammy boy, you’re playin’ to the wrong crowd.”
But after my younger son collapses in my arms, sobbing hysterically, Max — clearly affected by this Broadway calibre performance — gives him a hug, puts his arm around his shoulders and tells him with affecting sincerity, “I’m sorry, Sam. What would you like to do?”
At which point they play happily in the backyard for the next FOUR hours, beating their prepandemic record by three hours and 57 minutes.
Happy accident?
Two weeks ago, on the first warm night of spring, they enjoyed their first-ever backyard camp-out without a peep of discontent.
Last week, they hatched a scheme — inspired by the Farwell4Hire charity campaign — to purchase an amusement park with money earned from having people pay them to do dangerous stunts.
Last night, I found them conferring in the post-midnight hours about a joint comic book venture featuring a talking cat who says things like “Sup homies!” and will, I’m informed, set the world on fire.
This fraternal bond existed before this, of course.
But since home isolation has limited access to friends, school and extracurriculars, it has solidified in a way that’s truly surprising.
“They tolerate each other more now and want to play together more,” agrees Sarah ElSayed of her own kids, age five and 10.
“They only have each other at this point, which has helped.”
This isn’t a Mary Poppins “let’s-cheer-the-pandemic” nightly news capper, like mass midnight karaoke or flamingos taking over Mumbai.
They still fight, waging concerted wars of attrition over things like Sam yawning too loud or Max’s refusal to relinquish a favoured couch spot.
“They know how to provoke each other,” agrees stay-athome dad Faulkner of his own kids. “They haven’t turned into little angels.”
But in a world without time, where the weight of fear, frustration and crushing boredom can often feel oppressive, it’s an unexpected bonus.