Brotherly HOGA

One of the things I loved most about traveling with the kids last week was sharing a room with them and watching them share a room with each other.  Despite heavy protest from Thing2, Thing1 moved out of the bunk room a few years ago (“I need my space, Mom”), so sharing the pullout in our hotel room was a welcome change for T2 and a steep price to pay for T1.

We’ve all been there, right? My sister and I used to squabble over who got the bigger share of the blanket and who had crossed the imaginary line running down the middle of the motel bed.

T1 and T2 have slightly different dynamic.  T2 idolizes T1.  There is a fine line between hero worship and pestering, and T2 is willing to cross that line to spend as much time as possible with his older brother.  So far we don’t have any injuries to report, but T1 is literally marking off days on his calendar until he can graduate and move out despite our assurances that he really will miss his baby brother when he’s gone.

I tried to teach them a little brotherly HOGA, but, I suspect, like my sister and me, neither of them will really be into that either until one or both of them is out of the house.  Hopefully, dear reader, you’ll have better luck with your offspring than I did with mine.