He was five years old, and his sister, Antonia, was born a
few weeks ago.
In the weeks and months that followed, he became utterly
protective of her. Worried that flies would hurt her while she was sleeping
outside. Angry of the neighbor kids when they were playing in the yard, they
were too loud and would wake her up. Sad when she was crying, getting more and
more irritated by my apparent lack of capability to comfort her properly. “Is
she hungry mom? I think she is hungry! Maybe she wants something else than
milk? Can we please give her something better to eat?”
Not surprising. She was still inside of me when he started
to become concerned. Watching cartoons one night, he suddenly declared. “Mom,
you should eat the TV! The baby is all alone inside your belly, and she is
probably so bored, has nothing to do! If you eat the TV, she could at least
watch cartoons!”
But then, Antonia learned to stand. Holding on to the
furniture she liked to “dance”, moving her butt up and down and making happy
sounds.
That summer day, Mihai was in his “happy” place, playing
Crash Bandicoot on the PlayStation. Completely immersed in the game, life
outside Crash was irrelevant.
Antonia managed to crawl next to the TV, got herself up and
started her happy dance to Crash Bandicoot’s music, her little body covering
the whole TV screen.
The brotherly over-concerned and protective phase ended in
that exact moment.
It took another ten, maybe fifteen years for him to look at
her again as the little sister that needs care and protection, and not the
annoying little loud thing, looking for attention, interfering with his life.
