At 6:00 in the morning, the sky was still that dim, gray presence that hadn’t given way to the promise of sunshine. But I gave myself permission to roll over and sleep for just a while longer. For once, the dogs didn’t snuffle, shaking their collars, informing me it is time to let them out the back door to do their business. Two hours later, I woke to little boys in full voice, both ready for breakfast, schoolwork, and another day of what I call wrangling with the sib.
My great-nephews Matteo and Giovanni are nine-year-old fraternal twins. They are as different as night and day, but fiercely loyal to each other. Matteo is inclined to answer for his brother, which Giovanni might take exception to, raising his voice in glorious tenor when he gets annoyed with it. Yet they are so funny and endearing. You can’t help laughing.
Nine-year-olds exuberantly shout, run, laugh, and argue, sometimes at the same time. Their voices ring out clearly from the kitchen and down the hall to the bedrooms. Legos excite them, and inventions are top of mind. Gio will be an architect, designing a home resembling a pirate ship in a bottle. He says he’ll also have to create ordinary houses because he can’t keep coming up with new designs. Teo will be a writer. Indeed his stories are funny and full of imagination, as are his cartoons of SuperMatteo and his Superdog.
When schoolwork is complete for the day, and their pent up energy has been released in the back yard, they curl up together on the sofa reading or watching cartoons for the time they are allowed. My ears adjust to the newfound silence, till dad comes home, and they rush to share the daily adventures of little boys. At 8:00 pm, dad and Maria listen to their prayers, and I can hear their now soft murmurs. “Goodnight, Aunty LaLa,” I hear from their door.
“Goodnight boys, I love you.”