Divided we fall, WINK!

I feel good about a lot of the choices I've made as a mom, but the accomplishment at the summit of my pride mountain is the relationship I've helped nurture between WINK and SMILE.  Dating back to my pregnancy with SMILE, I emphasized WINK's pending role as big brother.  Before going into the hospital, I spread the word to family and friends that I wanted everyone to celebrate "WINK'S BIG BROTHER DAY" instead of shifting the attention to the new baby (it's not like an infant will know the difference, I reasoned). Whenever I talked to WINK about SMILE, I inserted "your" before the baby's name.  And as SMILE grew, I reversed it ("SMILE, where's your WINK?").  Of course, Dad and I wanted to establish a bond between us and our boys (I still often insert "my" before their names when I call them), but we both felt strongly that nurturing their connection would be a gift to them both.

And it has been. My boys love each other and defend one another endlessly when one is being scolded at home.  They hug and kiss every afternoon when they are reunited at the end of the school day and quickly name the other when asked to identify a best friend.   Of course, they fight.  They are five and seven year old boys, but hardly a truly critical, judgmental, mean word has passed between them.

That's why I was shocked this morning when WINK, sitting on the steps while I tied his shoe, declared "SMILE is weird." I wasn't even sure I had heard him correctly. "What?"

"Well, he is," WINK said defensively. "Why does he do that?" The veil of desensitization lifted and I realized SMILE was spinning and making repetitive sounds a few feet behind WINK.  Oh.

"SMILE thinks he's being funny, Honey."
"But he's not. It's weird," WINK stated. The irony of this made me chuckle because WINK isn't exactly the coolest cube in the ice tray.

I immediately started thinking of worse case scenarios.  Had one of WINK's classmates said something?  Had WINK overheard one of SMILE's classmates?  Or, worse of all, is WINK becoming a typical almost- eight- year- old in this area? Because, in all fairness, I understand that SMILE could be seen as a little...weird in the eyes of children (and uneducated adults, I might add).  But...

"WINK," I said with a calm sigh. "I don't like that word and I don't want you to use that word when you are talking about your brother."  He nodded and tried to lighten the mood in his typical overly goofy way.  And I smiled and got my spectrum boys out the door...my mind buzzing with one question:  What now?