Sibling revelry

They love each other to bits, these two. According to the chapter on siblings in NurtureShock, their constant interaction, whether they're being sweet or jumping on each other, bodes well for their future relationship. But I think I could see that without being told.

This morning, after I had perpetrated some terrible injustice on Monkey - refused to give him a new hand towel all for himself now that his pinkeye is gone and there was a perfectly good towel-for-everyone in the bathroom, I believe - I spent some time heartlessly ignoring his tantrum. (He elected not to go to school today even though he'd been white of eye for the requisite 24 hours. Given this particular overreaction, he probably was still feeling a bit under the weather.) While my back was turned, Mabel approached him sympathetically and asked, "What's the matter, Sweetie?" When I looked, she was straddling his supine form, stroking him adorably and trying her best to make him feel better.

We've had a spate of knock-knock jokes recently, to add to the chicken crossing the road joke. Monkey has been trying to invent some of his own, with limited success (unless you find surrealism particularly hilarious). He's known the orange one for a while, the one that goes

Knock, knock.
Who's there?
Banana.
Banana who?
Knock knock.
Who's there?
Banana.
Banana who?
[Repeat for as long as you can stand it.]
Knock, knock.
Who's there?
Orange.
Orange who?
Orange you glad I didn't say banana?

But he can't quite get the hang of why this is funny, so he thinks that any repeated word will work. Which leads to Mabel telling me jokes like this from the back of the car:

Knock, knock, Mummy.
Who's there?
Tree.
Tree who?
Tree you glad I'm not a tree.

Humph. Sigh. And then I have to explain to Monkey why it's funnier when Mabel tells it than when he does.

I taught them the interrupting cow joke this afternoon, as we failed to find a fancy new supermarket and instead ended up going to our old faithful Newest Target You've Ever Seen (it's a long story). It goes like this:

Knock, knock.
Who's there?
Interrupting cow.
Interrupting cow wh --
Moo.

Peals of laughter from the back row.

I'm an only child. All this is uncharted territory for me. This sharing of genetic code, of household in-jokes and linguistic shorthand, and having someone who's been there since the day you were born - or the day they were born. Almost all my friends had siblings, of course - come to think of it, they all had more than one, which is probably why I feel like just one is only just enough, but maybe it's all that and a bag of chips. Maybe it's just exactly right. My friends had little brothers who were a nuisance; other people had big brothers whose friends provided romantic fodder; but it never occurred to me that brothers could be best friends to sisters. I always thought you had to have two of the same sex for that to work.

But maybe here, as in so many other things, my children will prove me spectacularly wrong. I hope so.