half-dressed and hiding

One likes to build structures, the other likes to knock them down.  One likes to eat watermelon, the other likes to spit the seeds.  One likes to wear clothes, the other, not so much.
They are as different as January and July.

As the seasons change, so do the boys.  They are asserting themselves, the way crooked sprouts are pushing through layers of wet soil.  The one who liked green best now likes blue better.  The one who used to sleep in gets up early.  The one who has always gotten up early STILL GETS UP EARLY.  The one who preferred to be inside under a blanket wants to be outside under an umbrella.

I have boys so I will get out of bed in the morning, so I will not go back to sleep, so I will not stay under the covers half-dressed and hiding.  With them, color seeps into the world.  They repeatedly bring me back to life, water all my wilting parts.
I have them, and they have each other.

They began calling one another "Bro" this week.
Tucker, who fancies himself a gymnast, was tumbling and twirling and teetering on top of the couch while Tolliver and I watched.  Tollie started to giggle and said: That looks awesomesauce, Bro. And that made Tucker collapse into hysterics.  The two of them laughed at each other and with each other, and that almost made me cry.

Together they are a delight to watch.  And a near impossibility to photograph.
And they are both so, so loved.