Brayden has been looking up to his fur brother for a while now. I mean, Avery is soft and can jump high and his “hands” have sharp knives like the kind mom won’t let him play with. What’s not to be envious of? And like most little brothers, if Avery is doing something neat then Brayden wants in. Or in this case under.
One day I was looking and looking but couldn’t find Brayden. I started to panic. Where was he? Under my bed. With the cat in Avery’s de facto hiding spot. And sooo proud of himself.
I had to go in and literally drag him out. I don’t have a picture of it, but Avery just stared at Brayden from another area under the bed, watching this unfold.
Brayden feels strongly that Avery is infinitely happier when he’s around. So following that logic, clearly Brayden needs to sit with Avery on the recliner. Because Avery definitely wasn’t perfectly content there on his own. No, no, no. And just look at Brayden’s face. It’s like you can see how much he wants to reach out and
Then there are the toys. If you’ve read even a single post (and certainly A Very Merry Christmas or If you build it, the toys will come), then you know how many toys little B has. But does he want to play with those toys? Noooooo…he always wants to play with Avery’s favorite toy: a bouncing, squeaking mouse that hangs from my bedroom door. Avery looks seriously exasperated in these pictures (as much as a cat could look exasperated).
But a funny thing happened on the way to toddlerhood—Avery has started to try and get in on Brayden’s fun too. Doing something cool over there, little brother? Hmmm…maybe I need to supervise. Like when Aunty Liz was coloring with Brayden. Avery clearly had something to add to that equation. I think Avery was presenting himself as their muse.
Or when I built Brayden a pillow tunnel and Avery was all over that action. I love watching them play together. It’s too cute.
But guess what Avery really loves to do? Help Brayden and Grampa build stuff. Exhibit A: Brayden’s new toy box and book shelf (you may remember it from the post If you build it, the toys will come). No sooner had we brought the box in from the garage did Avery jump in it and declare it his own. Because that’s what older siblings do. And wait, wasn’t this obviously a cat condo for him? What do you mean it’s for toys?!? When I shooed him out, he totally meowed at me in a, “Why do you always give him the best stuff? YOU LOVE HIM MORE!” kind of way.
Ah, the joy of siblings. Or at least the version of siblings that live in my house.